The Search

by Jim Laughter

  "That's what I figured,” Darrel said, nodding toward the book he'd laid aside.

  "So what's got your interest right now?" Keith asked, trying to see the title of the book.

  "My favorite subject, of course!" Darrel said. "UFO's!"

  "That figures.”

  "You've done a pretty thorough job of cataloging our entire subculture,” Darrel said, taking the book back up. "It's interesting to see it from the other side. What are you doing up this late?"

  "Still trying to figure something out,” Keith said with a sigh. "I've been going over the manifest of that shuttle crash your father filmed."

  "Uh-huh, what's the problem?"

  "I have the list of crewmembers of the shuttle and the passenger list of the observation team they were picking up,” Keith said. "They would have had a full load on this particular trip, so I can assume that one of the operatives on that team was left behind somewhere. But who?"

  "And you don't know the identity of the bodies recovered by the military, right?"

  "That's right,” Keith confessed. "We haven't been able to break into their files to get that information."

  "You don't need to!" Darrel exclaimed. Keith looked dumbfounded.

  "What are you talking about?"

  "It's simple,” Darrel continued as he stood up. "Just let me get in contact with some friends. I'll get you what you want."

  ∞∞∞

  It sure has been a busy morning, Delmar thought as he sat in the control seat of the DayStar sipping tomato juice. The starfield outside the front windows sparkled in the distance while the DayStar lay motionless in space behind a moon in orbit around a non-descript planet. Far ahead, beyond what his eyes could see, were several Axia ships showing clearly on the DayStar's detector screen.

  After his repair of the antenna the day before, Delmar had made slow progress along his new course. Because of the energy consumed escaping the Red-tail, he must now take a more direct path to his destination. This necessitated flying much closer to Axia outposts, and in some cases crossing well-established travel corridors.

  Also, to conserve energy, Delmar had taken to parking the ship during ship night so he could rest and let the green box recover. He didn’t trust the old auto-pilot system to keep him on course. It seemed strange to him that a fusion power source would actually recover some of its generating capability when not in use, but the accidental discovery when he had been repairing the antenna was welcome indeed.

  Now the DayStar lay motionless. He watched the ships ahead cross his intended path. He had detected their energy trail earlier since his path ran parallel to an established trade route. He could tell by the dissipating trail that he was gaining on them, so he slowed the DayStar to avoid crossing their detection threshold. When he could see that their path and his would intersect, he found a convenient place to hide while he waited for them to cross his course and be on their way. Slow as his progress had become since the run-in with the Red-tail ship, he was getting closer to his goal.

  While he watched the slowly receding trace of the ships on his detector screen, Delmar again contemplated his situation. It didn’t look good. Here he was now better than half-way to his target. The ancient systems of his borrowed ship, the DayStar, was showing both the strain of the journey and the Red-tail attack. That it was still operational was a credit to both its builders and the maintenance of the previous owner.

  Furthermore, there were the consequences of his actions to consider. Delmar kicked himself mentally while reflecting on his rash plan. As admirable as his original intention may have been, he had to face the fact that now it did not justify taking a ship, even one due for the scrapyard as the DayStar had been. The end did not justify the means. He now faced the harsh reality that this action would likely cost him his captaincy and his precious Cabbage Patch, perhaps even his career.

  Delmar looked at the detector screen again just as the trace of the last ship disappeared. He set aside his glass and did one more passive sweep of the detection gear to be sure no one had sneaked up on his blind side, then activated the DayStar's drive. He longed for the up-to-date equipment on his Cabbage Patch, especially the long range detection system, but resigned himself to using what he had. Resetting the detector array for the energy trace left behind by Axia ships, he moved the DayStar out of its hiding place and toward the trade route.

  The energy residue was still strong when he crossed the flight path taken by the Axia ships, but soon faded as he headed away from them on a perpendicular course. Checking his chart, Delmar soon decided he was clear enough of the trade route to resume his plotted flight path. Except for the unexpected stray ship, he should be safe from detection for several hours at least. He was confident of this, so he advanced the throttle bar and accelerated the DayStar back up to its best sustainable speed.

  ∞∞∞

  The sunshine was brighter than Keith expected when he and Darrel emerged from the underground facility via an alternate entrance. They had decided to go to one of Darrel's distant contacts and try to get the information Keith was seeking. Now that they were topside and out in the open, Keith wasn't so sure about the advisability of the venture. Darrel on the other hand, was fully confident. They stepped onto a bus and headed away from the city.

  When he confessed his problem to Darrel back in the cafeteria, Keith had only a general understanding of the UFO subculture Darrel had mentioned. Asking Darrel to elaborate had opened up a virtual flood of information. To Keith's surprise, it had proven to be far more involved than he expected. Instead of just the usual mishmash of kooks with a mutual hobby, it was like a second watcher network. The implication at the number of people watching both the skies and the government they didn't trust was staggering. They were equally dedicated and organized.

  As Darrel explained it, there were even specialist within the organization. Some dealt strictly with possible communications with alien cultures. Others studied supposed artifacts and physical evidence. There were historians who searched for evidence of off-world visitors throughout recorded history. Yet others spent their time watching the government and their activities concerning UFOs.

  It was to one of the people in this last category that Darrel and Keith were now going to visit. This old gentleman lived alone far away from town and was considered a bit of a recluse. Although Darrel assured him that it would be no problem, Keith hoped the man wouldn't just turn them away.

  "Here we are,” Darrel said as he reached up and pulled the bell cord on the bus. Keith could see nothing but scattered houses up ahead.

  The bus slowed. Darrel stood and started forward. Keith followed. The bus finally lurched to a halt by a bus stop sign seemingly out in the middle of nowhere. The two men stepped off and the bus pulled back onto the country road in a cloud of diesel fumes and dust.

  "So where are we going?" Keith coughed as the dust settled around him.

  "Over there,” Darrel said, pointing at a long, low structure. To Keith it looked like nothing more that an extra long country rambler. Darrel started down a dirt lane off from the main country road. Keith followed. After a short distance, they came to a parking lot beside the facility and entered through a gate into the front yard.

  A secluded wooden walkway led to a large deck that surrounded the building on three sides. One portion was under cover but the rest was closed in by a low brick wall. Beyond that, there was a fair-sized yard in front and garden planters out back.

  "So here you are,” Darrel said, walking over to an old man in a wheelchair. The man was surveying a small mountain of granite through a pair of binoculars. The wall of rock rose off to the west of them on the far side of the country road.

  "Came here to watch me die, did you?" the old man said as he put down his binoculars.

  "You've been dying for the last fifteen years,” Darrel said. He grabbed a nearby stool and squatted down beside the old man. "So you better get around to it, Harry!"

  "Who's your friend?" Harry asked. He squinted up
at Keith. "Some sort of health inspector come to put me away?" Keith squatted down and smiled. Harry frowned back.

  "Naw, this is just a friend of mine,” Darrel said, still grinning. "Keith meet Harry, the most crotchety old man in three counties!" They shook hands.

  "Used to be the whole state,” Harry said, withdrawing his hand from Keith's. "Am I losing my touch?"

  A mischievous grin played across the old man’s face.

  "From what I hear,” Darrel said, "you’re getting too friendly with the staff!"

  “Nonsense,” the old man answered. “A man can’t have too many girlfriends.”

  He looked at his young friend and motioned him forward. “I could get you a date with a real cutie. She’d make your toes wiggle!”

  Darrel looked at Keith and shook his head.

  “This is what happens when people have nothing to do.”

  "Well, since you don’t need my matchmaking services, exactly what brings you out here to see an old man?”

  "I was hoping to show Keith your books,” Darrel answered. At this, Harry grew agitated and looked around. The three were alone.

  “Why? Is he a publisher? Come out here to make me rich and famous?”

  “No, nothing like that.”

  "Then why do you want to read my old scribblings? No one has ever been interested in them. No publisher will touch them. You think they're no good,” Harry said. "You only read them to humor me!"

  "Hey, don't say that!" Darrel said, taking a mock swipe at the old man. "I think they’re great! You’re just too far ahead of your time, that’s all."

  "What books are you two talking about?" Keith asked.

  "The ones Harry has been writing for years,” Darrel said with a smile. "Been pecking them out on his old manual typewriter."

  "What are they about?"

  "Shhhh!" Harry said. "We better wait until we can be safe."

  "Why don't we go get them?” Darrel suggested, straightening back up. "Then we can talk about them out on the verandah."

  Harry suddenly swung his wheelchair around and headed for the front door of the facility. The ring of the bell brought a woman in caretaker whites who let them in. Darrel, with Keith in tow, followed Harry through the large common room and down the hallway. Keith saw other elderly residents scattered around either napping or staring into nowhere. Unwatched in a corner, a television scrolled a muted movie.

  As they made their way down a narrow hallway, Keith also noticed a variety of small rooms. Most were sparsely furnished but tastefully decorated, apparently to suit the taste of the resident. Except for hospital beds and nightstands, they were furnished sparsely with a dresser and either and old wingback or reclining chair. Some of the beds were occupied by sleeping residents. Finally, they came to Harry's room and followed the old man inside.

  This room was similar to the others, except better furnished. On top of an old dresser was a large television. And on top of that sat the model of a large multi-engine B-27 bomber from years gone by. Keith recognized it as one of the best aircraft this country's military had ever developed. Too bad they had been shortsighted and scrapped it years ahead of it's time.

  Two bookcases and a simple desk completed the inventory of furnishings. A tired-looking typewriter that Keith suspected was the one mentioned earlier rested on the desk. The bookcases held mostly white boxes along with a few books. Pictures of people and more aircraft adorned the wall above the desk. While Keith surveyed the room, Darrel and Harry rummaged through the boxes on the bookshelves.

  "That's the one,” Darrel said, pointing at one of the boxes. Keith read what appeared to be book titles scrawled on the end of each box. Harry grunted and pulled the box out of the middle of a stack.

  "Come on you two,” Harry said gruffly.

  Harry handed the box to Darrel and headed back out of the room. Keith took one last look at the pictures on the wall. One showed Harry sitting in the cockpit of a small white biplane. He followed Darrel and Harry back down the hall. Short minutes later they were outside on the verandah on the side of the facility. Darrel set the box on a picnic-type table. Harry looked around one more time to be sure they were alone. He then slid the box over in front of him while Darrel and Keith sat down on a bench across the table.

  "What were you so interested in?" Harry asked.

  He opened the box. Inside was what appeared to be several reams of typewritten pages.

  "I thought Keith would be interested in the account you wrote about a military investigation,” Darrel said. "The one at that base out in the desert."

  "That'll be chapter seventeen of Desert Cover-up.” Finding the manuscript he wanted, he pulled out a section and handed it to Darrel.

  "This is it!" Darrel said. He scanned the pages and handed them one at a time to Keith, who took them and started reading. What he found was the fictional account of the crash of a spaceship on this planet and the attempts at covering it up by the military. He smiled and kept reading.

  "I think he likes it,” Darrel said to Harry while he watched Keith.

  "What's he so interested in?" Harry asked suspiciously.

  "Where you listed the names of the people killed in the crash,” Darrel said. They both saw Keith start when he came across the section in question.

  "I think he found it,” Harry said quietly.

  Fighting back tears, Keith read the account of the recovery and identification of bodies related in the fictional book.

  "Where did you get this?" he asked, looking up at Harry. Harry stared back at Keith.

  "Wrote that years ago,” Harry finally said. "Where I got it is classified."

  "May we borrow this?" Darrel asked. "I think Keith is going to want to study it in more detail at home."

  "Just a minute,” Harry said suddenly as he thrust the box into Darrel's hands. "You two stay here. I'll be back in a minute." The old man rolled off, leaving the two alone.

  "Are you sure this is real?" Keith asked Darrel. "I thought he said this was fiction."

  "So he says,” Darrel answered. "But Harry’s an old military man, so he’s been around. There’s no telling what he’s seen or what he knows. And if this stuff is real, what better place to hide it than in a bunch of books no one will ever read?"

  Keith looked down at the pages and shook his head.

  Harry returned a few minutes later with a battered old manila envelope tucked beside him in the wheelchair.

  "I thought you boys might like these,” he said, handing the envelope to Keith.

  Keith opened the envelope and found it contained a number of old photographs. The series of pictures were of obviously dead bodies on morgue gurneys. He looked up at Harry.

  "Where....?" Keith whispered.

  "Got those years ago, just before I retired,” Harry said quietly. "I had a friend in the photo lab. He made a copy for me. Strictly off the books. Very illegal. They were taken fifteen or so years ago."

  Keith looked again at the pictures and then back at Harry.

  "But how did you come up with the names?" Keith asked as he held up the typewritten pages. He recognized several of the names from the original mission roster that listed both the operatives real and cover names.

  "I was a member of a government operation called Majestic,” Harry replied with a smile. "When we recovered the bodies from that spacecraft, they still had their bogus identification papers on them. That is, all except one. We found him under the spacecraft, which indicated to us that he was outside when the ship crashed. His body was terribly mangled, but he had a state driver’s license and other identification on him. We think he was a hiker that was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. We checked on him and he was definitely a U.S. citizen – a school teacher, I think.”

  “But you never notified his family?” Darrel asked.

  “And tell them what, that a spaceship crashed on top of your loved one?”

  “You read about those kinds of things all the time,” Darrel said. “It’s hard to believe they
might be true.”

  He glanced over at Keith who still studied the list of names.

  “Don’t you go believing everything you read in the tabloids,” Harry said. “There are mysteries out there in space that we’ll never understand.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure there are.”

  “And I’ll tell you one more thing,” Harry continued. “The people out there watching us aren’t little gray men with big heads and black eyes.”

  “They’re not?”

  “No. They’re as human as we are,” Harry said. “I figure they’re from a civilization far more advanced than ours. They might even be the race of beings that seeded life on Earth in the first place.”

  Darrel reached over and took the pages from Keith's hand. Inserting them back into the stack of pages, he closed the box and stood up. Keith found himself also rising.

  "I don't know what to say,” Keith said as he looked down at Harry. "You've helped immensely."

  "There's only one more thing I've got to say,” Harry said with a twinkle in his eye.

  "What's that?"

  "I’ve been expecting you for a long time,” Harry said to Keith with a smile. "Just thought it would be before this."

  "What...?" was all Keith could manage to say.

  "Oh, don't spoil the moment for an old man!" Harry said as he looked into Keith's eyes. "I spotted you as soon as you opened your mouth.”

  He saw the alarm on Keith's face.

  “Don't look so worried,” he continued. “It isn't obvious. I just know what to look for,” he added. "You can be sure our military knows about you. We know you have ships watching us from outer space, and we’re pretty sure you have observation stations on the planet. Just keep your heads down and let things develop in their own time. I only wish I could hang on longer so I could see the day myself!"

  "What can I say?" Keith asked. He looked wide-eyed at the old man in the wheelchair.

  "Only one more thing,” Harry said as he straightened himself up. He then brought his right arm up so that the forearm was horizontally across his chest, his palm down. Keith found himself involuntarily returning the Axia salute.