The Search Page 7

  "And here is tonight's special guest, Mr. John Doe,” the science editor said. "To protect his privacy, we are using a false name, blanking his face, and disguising his voice."

  The camera switched to show a backlit individual with a blurry oval in front of his face.

  "Thank you for joining us tonight, Mr. Doe,” the science editor said. "Tell us about this sighting you had last week."

  "I was hiking in the foothills when I saw a vapor trail streaking through the atmosphere," the man's mechanically-altered voice said.

  "But nearly every airliner leaves a contrail,” the science editor said. "Are you sure it wasn't just another jet flying over the area?"

  "Yes I am, Abbot,” the man said. Behind him, a video clip began to roll.

  "I had stopped for a break when I heard what sounded like a sonic boom directly over the wilderness habitat I was exploring. Naturally, I wanted to record the sight of the offending aircraft for the federal environmental office to pursue and fine."

  The video clip showed the image of a contrail streaking across the sky.

  "I noticed that rather than continuing at a fixed altitude, the craft seemed to be descending rather rapidly."

  The clip showed the movement of the craft as it descended through the atmosphere.

  "When the aircraft got lower, I zoomed in and recorded this.”

  The video picture enlarged considerably, and for a few brief seconds the craft was clearly visible. It appeared to be cylindrical in shape with what appeared to be skids on the bottom and some sort of rods sticking out the back.

  Back in his living room, Yohan stared dumbstruck at the sight. It was clearly an Axia scout or shuttlecraft.

  The colonel began to chuckle.

  "What an interesting flight of fancy,” he said, turning toward the general. Then he noticed the general wasn't laughing.

  "That's quite interesting,” the science editor said after the clip ended. A moment later, a still picture of the craft appeared on the screen behind Mr. Doe.

  "It's not like any UFO picture I've ever seen."

  "It’s obvious that you have doubts,” the man said. "But I have more. I gave a second clip to your production assistant."

  Immediately, the still clip was replaced by another film segment. It was obviously taken with an old home movie camera years earlier.

  "I’ve kept this for years, ever since my father showed it to me privately,” the man said tersely. "He said to save it until I had confirmation and the media publicity to protect me from the government."

  Behind him, the film showed a craft similar to the first streaking across the sky. Fighter aircraft were trying to cut off its escape. From the shakiness of its movement, it was clear the craft was in considerable distress.

  As the scene progressed, the fighter aircraft fired rockets and scored several hits on the stricken vessel. It began to angle down sharply and swung toward the camera. It pulled up abruptly and pancaked into a hillside, bursting into flames.

  The camera zoomed in as several occupants staggered out of the wreckage. It was clear they were human in appearance. One of the fighters zoomed overhead and strafed the survivors. Two others fired rockets, scoring direct hits on the downed craft and the alien occupants. In moments, they all lay dead on the ground.

  The colonel pushed himself up out of his chair and crossed the room to turn off the television set. He could never find the remote control when he needed it.

  “What a load of nonsense that was!” he said. “And I thought some of our propaganda footage was cheesy. Can you believe that hack job?”

  The general was livid. The film ended and the science editor came back on.

  "How did someone film that?" the general bellowed. "I thought we had thoroughly quashed the incident.”

  "You mean that really happened?" the colonel asked.

  "Of course it happened!" the general snarled. "Fifteen or so years back. We still have the wreckage and the bodies stored at Area 51 in Nevada."

  Yohan sat in stunned silence. To unexpectedly see a film replaying the crash of his rendezvous shuttle and the death of his friends was almost more than he could bear.

  As the emotions he had kept safely at bay all these years welled up inside him, rivers of tears began to course down his cheeks.

  Chapter Eight

  "Where are you going on your field trials?" Delmar asked Eaton as they and Robert helped themselves to hash and eggs. One thing about Agnes being gone, the food may not be fancy but there was sure a lot of it.

  "Oh, I was thinking of somewhere out on the rim,” Eaton answered.

  "Why is it you pups always want to go to the rim?" Robert asked as he took a sip of coffee. "It's always the rim. That's all I ever hear about."

  "But Dad,” Delmar protested. "That's where the adventure is!" Eaton nodded his agreement.

  "Don't you two realize there are still many areas closer to the galaxy core that are just now being explored? There are thousands of planets orbiting stars that haven’t even been discovered yet. Who knows what’s all out there?"

  "Not for me!" Delmar said sharply. "I've had enough of heading inward. Seems I always find trouble there."

  "That's exactly what I mean,” Robert came back earnestly. "A part of true adventure involves risk and danger. You didn't become the captain of your own ship just to make mail runs, did you?"

  "He's right, Delmar,” Eaton agreed. "Maybe I should head inward and look around. I might not have such freedom for a while if the Optiveil works out."

  "You go ahead and explore the core all you want to,” Delmar said. "When the Cabbage Patch is ready, I only plan to make one trip inward if I can help it."

  "To see Abby?" Robert asked. Delmar nodded.

  “You just remember what we talked about. That sector is still patrolled by an on-station mothership, and the planet is still closed. You’ll be going against regulations and breaking Watcher protocol.”

  “Can’t help it, Dad.”

  “It could mean your captain’s plate,” Eaton admonished his friend. “It could cost you your ship.”

  Delmar didn’t answer. He understood the consequences of his actions. But love pulled at his heart. He wasn’t going to abandon Abby just because the Axia had rules and regulations against contact with people from closed planets. He’d find a way to get back to Panay, even if it cost him his career.

  “What are you two going to do after I leave,” Eaton asked. He could tell by Delmar’s silence that it would do no good to try talking sense into him.

  "I thought we’d go over to the old Keeler auxiliary airfield?” Robert answered. "I heard they're bringing out some of the older restored aircraft. I figure Delmar would like that."

  Robert looked over at Delmar's face and saw a grin slowly appear.

  “That looks like a yes to me. Now, finish your breakfast.”

  ∞∞∞

  "I don't care who you have to disturb!” the general blasted at his assembled staff. “And I want to know how that nut-job got past security!"

  Backs stiffened all around the table.

  "But sir,” a captain began, a noticeable quiver in his voice, "that happened over fifteen years ago. It'll be almost impossible to trace the security breach after so many years." Several of the other staff members involuntarily winced.

  "Almost impossible means that it still might be possible,” the general replied in a harsh whisper. "Get on it!"

  A chorus of ‘yes sirs’ echoed around the room.

  "That's better,” the general replied in a more modulated tone. "Dismissed."

  Everyone rose and filed from the room. Many were visibly shaken. The general exited through a separate door into his office. Another general was seated in one of the easy chairs in front of the desk.

  "Quite a performance,” the waiting general commented.

  "Glad you liked it, Gordon. It's been a while since I shook them up. Feels good to know I can still do it."

  "You always had a way with staff ma
nagement, Vince.”

  "So what's the brass upstairs think of all this?" Vince asked.

  "I've managed to keep the heat off for now. But if you don't get some results in say a week, I can't guarantee anything."

  "That's all we’ll need,” Vince replied confidently. "I've got tails on that nut now, and we’re checking into his associates. Something will turn up."

  "Isn't that risky?"

  “Do you think we should allow a man with verifiable information like that to run loose in the news media?”

  “No, but…”

  “There’s no buts about it. If we don’t stop him, he could sink us all.”

  Vince rubbed his temples with the ends of his fingers.

  “The joint chiefs are going to go crazy. Not to mention the NSA.”

  “What’s the National Security Agency got to do with it?”

  “You’ve got to be kidding!” exclaimed Vince. “They’ve been tracking this phenomenon for years. We have every reason to believe there are entire networks of alien operatives living right here on this planet observing every move we make.”

  “As a precursor to invasion?”

  “Who knows?” Vince asked, not expecting an answer. “The only thing we know for sure is they’re real, they’re here, and if we don’t catch that nutcase and get to the bottom of this thing, heads are going to roll, and mine will be the first one in the basket.”

  ∞∞∞

  The party of interest to the generals was at that moment ducking into a small nondescript cafe. Being unfamiliar with the place, it took him a moment to orient himself and move beyond the door. Making his way to the second booth from the back, he sat down nervously. The worn briefcase never left his hand as he tried calmly to order coffee from the waiter. In short order, the coffee was brought and the man sat back to nervously wait.

  Life had been strange for Darrel ever since the TV show on UFO's. In spite of the efforts the studio made to keep his identity secret, everyone seemed to know who he was. A small army of reporters and camera operators had appeared almost instantly on the lawn of his small rental house. His landlord made it plain that the situation must end or he would be evicted.

  Darrel's phone turned into a flood of offers and threats within a day of the TV show. After answering the first few, and ignoring others, Darrel at first dismissed them and then grew alarmed as the threats increased. Finally, he quit answering his phone or even checking his email, which was now backed up to over a thousand. The press noticed when he stopped venturing through their gauntlet of microphones to collect his mail, so they helped themselves to the pile.

  Soon Darrel realized he had to escape. It was while he was gathering the few precious belongings along with any UFO material into an old leather briefcase that he found the note. He had no idea how it had gotten there, but its message was simple and clear.

  If you want to escape, come to the 32nd Street Diner Tuesday afternoon at 3 pm. Sit in the second booth from the back and someone will contact you. We assure your safety from the public and the authorities. Please bring the original footage of your UFO encounter and any other pertinent information.

  Darrel was just preparing to leave his house around two via the back door when a commotion on the front lawn alerted him and he peeked through the curtains. He caught sight of a military staff car. Several officers were getting out and gathering to confer on the far side of the vehicle.

  For once, Darrel was glad for all the reporters. They immediately pressed around the military men like a pack of wild dogs catching scent of fresh meat. Darrel took advantage of the distraction, grabbed his loaded briefcase, and escaped out the bedroom window into an alley. Although it was earlier than he planned, he knew how to take advantage of an opportunity when he saw one.

  Now he sat in the booth, again reviewing the contents of the mysterious note. He still didn't know how it got there, but it was the only hopeful thing in his rapidly deteriorating world.

  Darrel’s coffee was nearly cold when a man came through the entrance. He scanned the place and spotted his quarry. With comfortable steps, he made his way to Darrel’s booth and sat down.

  “You Darrel?” he asked. Darrel nodded.

  “Do you have the footage?” Again, Darrel nodded.

  "I brought it all,” Darrel said in a whisper as he fingered the briefcase.

  "I figured you would,” the man said. "I can guarantee safety for both it and you."

  "Are you sure?" Darrel asked anxiously. "I mean, the press has been hounding me ever since the show."

  "I thought your type liked all the publicity it could get,” the man said with a smile.

  "Not on your life!" Darrel replied. "I’m not a publicity hound. I should have minded my own business. Someone was going through my garbage cans!"

  "You better be thankful for all the media attention,” the man said.

  "What do you mean?"

  "It's the only thing that has kept you alive up to now,” the man said calmly. "All the media attention keeps you from, shall we say, disappearing."

  "But that's what I want!" Darrel exclaimed in a harsh whisper. "That's why I agreed to talk to you!"

  "I'm not talking about us,” the man replied firmly. "I'm referring to those in your government who have something to hide. If they had their way, the press wouldn't even find your body."

  Darrel shuddered.

  "And what makes you so different?" he finally asked. "How do I know you’re not one of them, or won't just turn me over for a reward?"

  "When I said we can guarantee your safety and that of your material, I meant it,” the man answered. "I have connections a bit higher up than those you now fear."

  "How are you going to do it?" Darrel asked. "Even my neighbors seem to know my every move."

  "That is something you'll just have to wait to find out.”

  "But won't it be suspicious if I just disappear?”

  "Of course,” the man answered. "And that's just what we want. All the media attention that results from your unexpected disappearance will feed the rumor mill that makes all this possible."

  "How do you mean?" Darrel asked, clearly puzzled.

  "Simple,” the man replied. "The press will automatically suspect the military or the government in your disappearance. That will keep the government so busy denying it that they'll never miss you."

  Darrel considered this for a minute and finally seemed satisfied.

  "So when can you get me out of here?"

  "How about right now?"

  The man glanced toward the door. Two men who had the obvious appearance of government about them had just entered. Darrel looked startled when he saw them.

  "Ok,” he replied hoarsely.

  After throwing some money on the table, the man got up casually. Still clutching his briefcase, Darrel also rose. Pushing Darrel ahead of him, the man slipped them through a swinging door into the kitchen while the two men at the front of the cafe were distracted. The cook and dishwasher looked unconcerned by the appearance of two customers but said nothing. The man winked at the cook.

  "Come on, we better hurry.”

  Darrel expected they'd head out the back door. Unexpectedly, the man ducked into a storeroom. Darrel, still holding the precious briefcase, followed.

  "What now?" he asked after the man closed the door and secured it.

  "Watch.”

  The man reached inside his jacket and pulled out a strange looking device. Darrel stared. He watched the man push a button and speak in an alien language. A half second later, part of the wall swung away revealing a stairway going down.

  "Follow me,” the man said in English. "Those government goons will be back here any second."

  The two went through the entrance and part way down the stairs. The man activated a small control panel set in the wall and the secret door swung silently shut.

  "There, that should do it,” the man said in a relaxed tone. "The entrance and this passageway are completely shielded."

&nb
sp; "Exactly where are we?" Darrel asked.

  "In an underground passage we built many years ago,” the man said as he led Darrel deeper underground. The two descended silently for a minute before coming to the bottom of the stairs. In front of them was another door.

  This one looked more utilitarian that the secret one above. Again, the man pulled out his strange device and activated this door. It slid silently open and he stepped into the room beyond.

  "Come on,” the man called back to Darrel. With a look of utter astonishment, Darrel stepped through into the room. The door slid silently closed behind him.

  The room he found himself it appeared to be some sort of generalized entry area. Through an archway, he could see several men and women seated at various control consoles. A few wore black uniforms. Their limited conversation drifted back to him in a language he had never heard before.

  "Who are..?" he started to ask and then stopped.

  "Of course you're wondering who we are and what just happened to you,” the man said as he peeled off his jacket. Hanging it up, he turned back toward Darrel.

  "To put it simply, you've just been abducted by aliens,” he said with a wry smile.

  ∞∞∞

  The rattle of a three-cylinder engine filled the field as what appeared to be a powered box kite started its takeoff roll down the grassy strip. Robert looked over and saw Delmar grinning like a fool. Glad I got him out, Robert thought when the antique flyer finally lifted from the grass and struggled into the air. Delmar continued to watch with fascination as the restored aircraft slowly gained altitude and then circled the field.

  "Not unlike the skyflyers on Panay,” Delmar commented when the noise of the circling craft had lessened a bit. He continued to study the antique while it turned and passed overhead.

  "You wouldn't get me up in one of those things,” Robert said again for probably the tenth time since he and Delmar had arrived at the field.

  "Give me a solid steel deck and a working drive and I'm happy."

  "But you've no idea what it's like!" Delmar exclaimed. "You can feel the wind lift you instead of being isolated from everything by glass-steel windows."