by Darien Cox
It wasn’t like Myles never had to accept that certain things were above his position. Things he didn’t need to know. It was the same with this. He just happened to be sleeping with one of those ‘in the know’ people. Maybe it was the power-shift freaking him out. He’d always held authority over Christian. He’d thrown him in a cell, for crying out loud. And all the while Christian was working for some behind-the-curtain sect of the military. Christian was above Myles’ paygrade.
But Christian had never behaved as such. And if he was one to spout such poetry as ‘Myles Murphy, I’ve wanted you for two years’ with a straight face and deceptive agenda, well, then he was a skilled actor. Myles didn’t think so. Christian liked Myles. They were attracted to each other, so they fucked. That’s all Christian should be to him. A guy he was sleeping with. And until the village blew up or people started catching three-eyed fish in the lake or something, Christian’s job was none of his concern.
Still, Myles would keep his guard up. Christian had already weakened him far too much in such a short time. Myles couldn’t recall being so undone by a man since he was a teenager. He needed to rein it in a little. It’s just sex. Stop acting like the cute boy asked you to the prom.
He drove past the marina, not because he was stalking Christian, it was just on his route. Unfortunately, he caught a glimpse of Ogden walking toward Christian’s office. Myles scowled, and kept driving, circling around the lake. He’d believed Christian when he explained his continued involvement with some military sect. But spotting Ogden at the marina really drove it home, and now Myles was worried again. About carrying on with Christian. And about the village.
His phone buzzed with an incoming text. He pulled into the amusement park lot and parked. A text from the man himself. Speak of the devil.
Myles read Christian’s text and smiled.
‘If I can’t see you tonight I’m gonna walk into the lake and drown myself.’
Myles shook his head. For all his determined caution, excitement buzzed in his stomach at the thought of seeing Christian again. Of kissing Christian again...and other things.
He typed back, ‘Wear your leather pants, you’ll sink faster.’
‘Not nice, Sheriff. I’ll bring you a cold fish. You two should have a lot in common. Pleeeease? I’m having a stressful day.’
“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Myles mumbled, thinking of Ogden. Hitting reply, he typed, ‘I’ll be home by seven. See you then.’
He set his phone down and stared up at the rollercoaster, sympathizing with the screaming people whizzing around the track. He felt like one of them, ever since his first kiss with Christian. His eye was drawn upward as he thought he saw something glimmer in the sky. A quick flash of a triangle shape. When he blinked, there was nothing there but a cloud. I need to start sleeping better at night.
Right. But with Christian coming over, he doubted he’d get any sleep at all.
****
“Christian! Stop playing with your phone. I asked you a question.”
Christian put his phone away and focused on Ogden. “Sorry.”
Ogden, JT, Elliot, and Nolan were all crowded into Christian’s office for the briefing. They’d been cautious not to speak too close to the craft in the boathouse since Baz revealed that there could be not one, but two aliens alive in there.
“You’re not even paying attention,” Ogden barked at Christian. “You’re supposed to be my strategist. What am I paying you for?”
“Hey!” Christian scowled. “I was the first one to pinpoint the location of that field up on the mountain, which if you’ll recall, turned out to be an entrance to the Whites’ underground installation. That’s what you fucking pay me for.”
“Take it easy, Christian,” JT said.
“In case you haven’t noticed,” Ogden said, “we have a new problem now. I need options.”
“Maybe you can just transport all your equipment here,” Nolan said. “That way you can study the craft without moving it out of the perimeter.”
“It’s not that simple,” Ogden said. “I’ve been ordered to bring the craft, they want it there, and they don’t want excuses. We need to figure this out. Plus if the Whites have this thing shielded within the perimeter of this area, our equipment probably won’t work.”
“Not shielded,” Christian said. “Baz didn’t say it was shielded. He said it was sealed.” He clapped his hands together the way Baz had.
“He could have meant the same thing,” Elliot said.
“I don’t think so.” Christian shook his head. “He may not be totally adept at our language, but he chooses his words carefully. He said the craft was sealed shut so nothing could get out from the inside. But if it’s not shielded, we can...” He stared off as an idea formed.
“We can what?” Ogden asked.
Christian went to his desk and got a piece of paper and a pen. “Here’s the craft.” He drew the Hershey’s Kiss shape. “What if you could construct a containment apparatus around it for travel...” He drew a larger square around the craft.
“It would have to be something that could contain the angry nasties,” Nolan said. “If they’re as powerful and have superior weapons as Baz said, they could cut right through it.”
“But...” Christian pointed his pen at Nolan. “If the craft is merely sealed and not shielded, then they should have been able to cut or shoot or whatever through the hull already and gotten out. It’s been days, and they hadn’t expected to be locked in. They’d have figured out by now that the Whites aren’t coming to their rescue. If they’re still alive, they could be dying in there. So if they haven’t cut through with whatever weapons they have already, that means it’s likely they can’t cut through that particular material.”
JT jumped from his chair and approached. “I see where you’re going with this. If they can’t break through the material the craft is made of, maybe we could reverse engineer the same material and make a containment. Ogden, you could build the containment apparatus around the craft for transport, set cameras inside. Then you could see if the craft opens up once you’re outside the perimeter. But if anything crawls out, it shouldn’t be able to break through the outer containment.”
Ogden patted JT’s shoulder. “Finally. Someone’s thinking.”
“Hey!” Christian said. “It was my idea!”
“If it’s not shielded,” Nolan said, “I could use my own equipment to do a spectro-analysis. We can hopefully get a read on the composition of the hull and try to scrape a physical sample to check the mechanical properties.”
“There could be unidentifiable elements,” JT said. “In fact, there almost definitely will be. But if we’re lucky we can get enough to construct a workable replication.”
“Okay,” Ogden said. “Let’s get to work. Just keep your voices down and be careful what you say within proximity of the thing.”
“Before we get within...hearing range of the craft,” Christian said. “JT. What did you mean last night when you said you and Rudy think the angry nasties have a base on the moon?”
“Oh.” JT chuckled. “We kept asking Baz where these ‘others’ come from, and he just kept saying ‘far’. So I thought, if they come from so far away, why would they have expected the Whites to accept that it was an accident that they happened to crash into the lake near their base? So that’s when the lightbulb went on in my head. I said Baz, do these others have a base on earth too, like the Whites? He said no. No hesitation. So then I asked, do they have a base on a nearby planet or a satellite? Like maybe...the moon? He hesitated for a second, and said no. So then Rudy said, ‘If not on the moon, do they have a base in the moon?’”
“What did Baz say?” Christian asked.
“He didn’t answer. He started rocking back and forth, then he said ‘Baz goodbye’ and left.”
“It stands to reason the Whites wouldn’t want us to know if there was an alien base inside the moon,” Elliot said. “People are already obsessed with the idea that the moon is occup
ied, rumors that the original moon landing crew discovered this, and they were warned off.”
“That’s not accurate,” Ogden said. “The angry nasties are not in the moon.”
Elliot snorted. “Would you tell us if it was accurate?”
“Probably not.”
“There’s evidence that humans already tried to detonate weapons targeted at the moon,” Elliot said. “The moon’s existence is crucial to the health of the Earth. The Whites wouldn’t want us fucking with it any more than they want us fucking with them and their base here, regardless of whatever angry nasties might be living inside it.”
“Forget the moon,” Ogden said. “Trust me, they’re not based there. Let’s go see to that craft.”
****
They stood together in the boathouse while Nolan worked on the craft with a drill. JT frowned at the test results Nolan had gotten from the spectro-analysis. “This isn’t really metallic, not by our standards. We’ve got some basic expected elements in here like chromium and manganese, but eighty-six percent of this shit is listed as Other. That’s the polite XRF term for I have no fucking idea what it is.”
“Fuck!” Nolan shouted. He came around from the back and walked toward them, the diamond tip drill bit glowing red. “The friction is generating heat on my end, but the surface of the craft isn’t charred or even hot. Nothing’s broken loose, not a flake. The Eddy-currents couldn’t penetrate. I can’t get any reading from this giant turd.”
JT shook his head. “We need a physical sample. I know there’s going to be some guess work involved but flying this blind isn’t an option for building a containment, otherwise it could be a suicide mission. If Baz was right about what’s inside being dangerous.”
“Lower your voice,” Christian said.
“Sorry.” JT glanced toward the craft. “It’s just hard to believe,” he whispered, “that there could be something alive in there.”
“Better safe than sunny,” Christian said.
Ogden frowned at him. “What?”
“Nothing.”
Wiley stepped into the boathouse. “I got your message,” he said to Ogden. “How are things progressing?”
“Motherfucker!” Nolan picked up a hammer and chisel. He took to the craft, banging violently with the tools, muscles straining. “Come on, baby, give me something.”
Ogden cocked an eyebrow at Wiley, then pointed at Nolan. “That’s how things are progressing.” He shook his head and turned back to the rest of them. “Well, it was a good idea.”
“There could be another option,” JT said. “But it’s probably risky.”
Ogden stepped closer. “I’m listening.” He glanced over to Nolan, who still hammered at the craft like a madman. “Or trying, anyway.”
“Your organization has recovered alien craft already,” JT said.
“Why would you say that?” Ogden scowled. “I’ve never said that.”
“We never said that,” Wiley concurred.
Wiley wore jeans and a tee shirt today rather than his usual spook-suit, and Christian frowned at him. “Where’s your suit? You look almost human today, Wiley.”
“What?” Wiley’s token scowl landed on Christian. “Mind your damn business.”
“Oh, come on, Ogden,” Elliot said. “Roswell wasn’t a fucking weather balloon. And that’s just one. That shit was dropping out of the sky like flies in the forties.”
“There must have been some reverse engineering done,” JT said. “Come on, Ogden.”
“If there was,” Ogden said, “and I’m not saying there was, it’s likely not the same material.”
“But if it was designed to travel vast distances through space with all its dangers and fire and flying rocks and shit,” Christian said, “it stands to reason it’s built similarly. And could maybe contain an assault just as effectively.”
Ogden put his hands on his hips and stared at the floor, shaking his head. “Well you were right about one thing, JT. That’s risky.”
“Ha!” Elliot pointed at Ogden. “You just confirmed it. You’ve got recovered alien craft.”
“He confirmed nothing,” Wiley said.
Ogden looked at Wiley. “They may have a valid idea here.”
Wiley’s lips pursed. He glanced over at Nolan, still struggling to get a sample from the craft—and still cursing wildly. “All right,” Wiley said. “We can consider it for a moment.”
Ogden dragged Elliot further back toward the door, and the others followed. “All right, here’s the problem. What’s available to us in terms of materials came from the Greys. It could be completely different from the Whites’ tech, or whatever this thing over here is.”
“Knew it,” Elliot said. “Fucking knew it.”
“Enough, Elliot,” Christian said. “Let’s think about this. Baz indicated that the angry nasties aren’t as advanced as the Whites. Why else would they want to steal the Whites’ tech? Now the Greys...well, they were advanced enough to fuck with the Whites’ DNA and create hybrids. I’m guessing they’re at least on par with the Whites. It stands to reason that the Greys, even a few decades ago, had crafts made of some pretty tough stuff.”
Ogden looked at JT. “What do you think?”
“I agree with Christian. If you’re hell bent on taking the craft out of here, it’s a decent theory if you can swing it. And I’m sorry to say I don’t have another idea at this point.”
“Why do you keep checking with JT after I give you ideas?” Christian said. “Did the Whites turn me invisible or something?”
“What do you want?” Ogden asked him. “A cookie? A blue ribbon? A star on your forehead?”
“Why are you being such a twat to me today, Ogden?”
“Because, Christian, your head has been in the clouds. You’ve stopped caring.”
“Oh fuck you. I may not like you, but I happen to care if you and your team get ripped apart by hostile aliens. Even Wiley. I’m trying, and I think I’ve been pretty helpful today.”
“Ogden?” Nolan called out.
“You’ve been considerably less helpful than usual,” Ogden said, ignoring Nolan. “Maybe because you’ve started sleeping with the sheriff.”
“Hey, guys?” Nolan called again.
“How do you know about that?” Christian asked.
“He’s local law enforcement, has already proven himself a nosy fucker, and it’s dangerous,” Ogden said. “Honestly, Christian. You couldn’t have chosen someone else to stick your dick in?”
“Screw you!” Christian said.
“And Christian’s a bottom,” Elliot said. “He doesn’t stick his dick in anyone.”
Ogden rolled his eyes at Elliot.
“Ogden,” Christian said. “I asked how you knew about that.”
Ogden glanced at Elliot. “You want to tell him, or should I?”
Christian turned to Elliot. “Elliot? You say something to him?”
Elliot’s lips pursed. He glanced at the floor, sighing, then looked at Christian. “We regularly monitor police activity, including the sheriff’s. Ogden checks the logs. He...saw texts between you and the sheriff. It wasn’t my call, Christian.”
“Yes,” Ogden said. “‘Thinking of you’, you said. It was very sweet.”
“You’re fucking...you’re tracking Myles’ phone? That’s fucking ludicrous!”
“Calls about certain types of activity often go to the police first,” Ogden said. “Of course we’re monitoring the sheriff’s calls! We need to know if someone’s reporting activity.”
“It’s still disgusting,” Christian said. “You guys trying to be the NSA now?”
“Oh please,” Wiley said. “We’re above the NSA, don’t be such a fucking moron.”
“Hey!” Ogden pointed at Wiley. “Stop insulting my team. I’m done with that.”
“Are you serious?” Wiley huffed.
“No one gets to insult these assholes but me,” Ogden said. “You’ll give them the respect they’re due, Wiley, or you’ll answer t
o me.”
“I outrank you, Ogden.”
Ogden took a step toward Wiley, his jaw tight. “I wasn’t speaking professionally.”
Wiley sneered, but took a step back. “Fine. I’ll pretend to be nice.”
“That’s all I ask.”
“Guys!” Nolan shouted so loud they all turned.
“What?” Ogden said. “Did you get a sample?”
Nolan backed away from the craft, the chisel dropping from his hand.
The rest of them walked toward him.
Nolan looked at them, wide-eyed. “It made a noise.”
Ogden stepped toward the craft. “What kind of—”
Nolan grabbed Ogden’s arm, stopping him. “Listen! Just listen.”
The room fell silent as they all stared at the craft. Nolan held a hand up. “Wait for it,” he whispered.
They all jumped when a sound came from the craft, not so much a knock as muffled vibration: whoomph.
Wiley gasped. “Shit.”
“Is that coming from inside?” Christian whispered.
“Quiet,” Ogden said.
They waited, but the boathouse remained silent.
Ogden looked at Nolan. “I want to try something. Give me that.”
Nolan handed Ogden the hammer, and Ogden walked over to the craft, climbing onto one of the supports.
Winding his arm back, Ogden hit the craft with the hammer three times, then stepped down off the support.
Thirty seconds passed, then the sound came from the craft again, three in concession, whoomph, whoomph, whoomph.
