The Alien Accord

by Betsey Kulakowski

  “Welcome to my world,” Lauren said, reaching for the cup of coffee Rowan brought her. “I’ve been called everything from crazy to a complete crackpot.”

  “Do you ever get used to it?” Kitty asked.

  “The more evidence I gather, the more truth I learn, the less it bothers me,” Lauren said. “Let the ignorant talk all they want.”

  “How long do we have to wait?” Rowan asked.

  “Frank told us to wait here,” she said. “It could be several hours before an extraction team reaches us.”

  “Dr. Donovan?” A voice behind her made her wince. She froze a moment, her eyes locked with Lauren’s. She turned slowly and Lauren’s eyes lifted. “Agent Bryce Anderson. The extraction team is meeting us at the airport.”

  Kitty stood, and Lauren wasn’t certain her knees would hold her. “What’s the password?”

  “Frank sent me,” the agent said.

  “Really?” Rowan pinched his lips dubiously. “Isn’t that kind of lame?”

  Kitty turned. “He’s right.”

  “The car is this way.” He held out a hand.

  Lauren stood, holding Henry on her shoulder as he napped. Whatever had happened, the boy seemed drained and lay like a heavy limp doll in her arms. She stopped a moment. “We don’t have a car seat for Henry.”

  “I’ve taken care of it,” Agent Anderson said.

  Any protests Lauren had melted away. With Henry safely strapped in the middle of the back seat of the SUV, Lauren buckled up beside him. She knew how he felt. A wave of exhaustion washed over her, and no sooner were they underway, she nodded off.

  * * *

  When Lauren awoke, the large black SUV was parked inside a brightly illuminated hanger. The agent got out of the car and came around and opened her door. “Dr. Pierce,” he offered her a hand. “Are you okay?”

  “Hm?” Lauren was still weary and moved slower than usual. “Yeah,” she yawned. “I’m fine.” Rowan collected Henry who woke with a start, fussing as his dad unhooked the straps on the car seat.

  A jet was parked nearby. The crews were busily preparing for takeoff, inspecting the key components, making sure it was safe for the journey. A man dressed in a white shirt with blue and gold epaulets on the shoulders, obviously the captain, made his own inspection, working from a checklist on a clipboard.

  Anderson handed her the toy shark that had slipped from Henry’s hand as he popped his head back in and retrieved the car seat, knowing they would need it again. “You must have children, Mr. Anderson,” Lauren observed. Henry saw the shark in her hand and started fussing.

  “Fishy!” His voice echoed in the high-ceilinged hanger. Lauren tossed it to Rowan, who caught it with his free hand, handing it to Henry, who hugged it and smiled brightly.

  “My kids are grown,” he said. “Won’t be long before I’m a grandpa.”

  “You don’t look old enough for grandkids,” Rowan said.

  “You flatter me, Mr. Pierce.”

  “Where are we going?” Kitty asked, reminding them that there was serious business still needing attention.

  “Classified,” Anderson said, directing them toward the plane with a lifted hand.

  The pilot met them at the base of the stairs. “Welcome aboard,” he said. “Make yourselves comfortable, we’ll be underway in about twenty minutes.”

  “You’ve received the flight instructions?”

  “Yes sir.” The pilot nodded. “I filed the flight plan and I’m just waiting for approval.”

  “Good,” the agent said.

  Rowan let Lauren and Kitty mount the stairs first and fell in behind them. He ducked at the door but paused there to listen to the conversation ‘til Henry tugged on his beard. “Dada!” He bopped him in the face with the stuffed shark.

  “Henry,” Lauren scolded, and the baby looked at her, recoiling sheepishly. “That’s not very nice.” She reached for him and he gave her a devilish grin as he held up his arms to her.

  The cabin was larger than Lauren had expected. There were six seats, all upholstered in white leather, trimmed with gray piping and cherry-wood trim that was lacquered and polished to a shine. They pivoted to face one another, and a short pub table sat between two of them on each side. Lauren took one, her back to the cockpit. She settled in to nurse Henry. He suckled greedily, clearly hungry. Lauren was too, and her stomach growled audibly.

  “I hope there are some peanuts or pretzels served on this flight,” she muttered to Rowan who took the seat across from her.

  Anderson finally came into the cabin and took a seat at the back of the plane, followed by a man in a uniform who peeled out of his jacket, and hung it in the small closet off the galley. “Change of plans,” the steward said, with a bob of his head. “I’ve just gotten word from the Captain, there’s a bit of weather coming in. We’re going to have to push off a bit early to get ahead of it and we’ve just gotten clearance to take off. I have just enough time to get everyone a beverage,” he lay a couple of napkins on each of the tables in front of Lauren and Rowan. “I’m Victor, by the way. I’m your cabin steward for the flight.”

  “I don’t suppose you have a snack?” Rowan asked. “We haven’t eaten in ... well, a while.” They hadn’t eaten since ... he couldn’t believe he was thinking this ... since they were on an alien space craft.

  “Of course, Mr. Pierce,” he said. “Dr. Grayson?”

  “I’ll take whatever you have,” she said.

  “Let’s start with drinks. Perhaps some sparkling water or a glass of wine?”

  “Sparkling water, actually.”

  “I need a beer,” Rowan groused.

  “Import or domestic?”

  “Honestly, I don’t care,” he said. “Surprise me.”

  “Dr. Donovan?”

  “Scotch, whatever you have.”

  “Irish or Domestic.”

  “Scottish, if you have it.”

  “Excellent choice,” he said, and went on to ramble on about the Glenfiddich and how it was distilled while he prepared a drink for each of them.

  “Agent Anderson?” The steward asked.

  “I’m fine.” He waved the steward off as he placed a glass of sparkling water on ice in front of Lauren. There was a wedge of lime to go with it.

  “Your beer, sir,” he placed an empty pilsner glass on the table next to the bottle of beer that was icy cold when Rowan picked it up. He inspected the label, pleased to find it was a local IPA he hadn’t tried.

  The steward served Kitty’s drink then brought over a plate of appetizers, crudités, and cheese. He took a smaller plate over to Kitty.

  The pilot came running up the stairs, turning and pulling the cabin door behind him. “Victor did you brief them on the situation?”

  “I did,” he said.

  “Secure for takeoff, then.”

  There was a quick safety briefing as Victor was locking up the cabinets that held the refreshments. “Buckle up, and we’ll be off in a moment,” he said, as the plane began to move.

  * * *

  Rowan sat watching out the window. Lauren and Henry were both asleep again. Watching the flaps on the wing as they lifted, he noticed the airspeed decreased noticeably. He looked over at Kitty, who fidgeted nervously.

  Rowan peered back down, as the ground gradually came closer. Flashing lights appeared on the landing strip below. Something was going on. He looked down at his watch. It’d been a couple of hours since they’d left the airport in Denver, if his time piece were accurate, though he wasn’t sure it was. All sense of time had been warped since the spaceship and the sudden teleportation to Colorado. He regretted there hadn’t been time to go see his parents. They’d postponed a visit home to see Lauren’s family first. How long ago had it been? A week? Maybe. He couldn’t remember. Rowan had lost count of the days.

  “What’s going on?” Kitty asked, gazing down.

  She turned back, looking at the agent in the back seat. Anderson folded his newspaper closed and gazed out the window.
He looked back at Kitty and shrugged. “Hmm.” He grunted noncommittally.

  “Okay folks,” the pilot came on the intercom. “We’re coming in for a landing.” Victor got up from his jump-seat and collected the empty plates and glasses, smiling at the sleeping mother and child as he passed, careful not to bump either of them.

  Rowan puzzled over the choice of landing sites. This didn’t appear to be a commercial airport, international or regional. This looked like a military base, but there was only one building, and it was set out in the middle of nowhere. He hadn’t seen a major city since they’d taken off. He glanced back to the west, noticing the sun was setting. The plane touched down with a lurch and the squeal of tires.

  Lauren sat up abruptly, looking around, startled. Rowan smiled at her, reaching over, and catching her hand. “Okay?”

  “Fine,” she muttered, trying to move the arm Henry was laying on, stretching out her numb fingers, and making a fist repeatedly. “Where are we?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “But ... I have a bad feeling.”

  Lauren’s head snapped up. She was immediately on guard. “What?” Her gaze went to the window. A dozen military vehicles with flashing red and blue lights were parked alongside the landing strip where the plane was pulling in. Anderson stood as the plane came to a stop. Victor was already unlatching the door and dropped the stairs.

  “Dr. Cameron?” Anderson turned and indicated for her to come along.

  Kitty looked at Rowan, then Lauren, and rose with trepidation. Lauren fumbled with her seatbelt as she passed. Rowan took Henry, making certain they had his stuffed shark.

  As Kitty stepped onto the tarmac, a contingency of military police crossed the tarmac to greet them. Rowan was still at the top of the stairs when an MP stepped up to Kitty. “Dr. Donovan?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I’m Dr. Donovan.”

  He opened an envelope and gazed down at it. “On the orders of the NATO Security Council, I am placing you under arrest on the charge of treason and two counts of murder in the first degree; assault and battery, and attempted murder with a deadly weapon. You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney.”

  Lauren froze at the bottom of the stairs. Rowan was at her elbow a moment later. Kitty was handcuffed and led into the building and the rest of the troops returned to their vehicles leaving Lauren and Rowan standing alone on the runway.

  “What’s going on?” Lauren asked, as much to the universe as to Rowan.

  “I don’t know.”

  Another vehicle pulled up and an older man in khakis and a blue zip-up jacket got out of the back seat. His jacket had a government seal embroidered on it. “Dr. Grayson, Mr. Pierce, I’m Frank White, Secretary of Homeland Security.”

  “What’s going on?” Lauren asked as he took her hand.

  “I was hoping you could tell me,” he said. “Let’s go inside. I’d like to have a word.”

  “Why was Kitty arrested?” Lauren asked, stunned as he took her arm and led her toward the building. Rowan fell in behind them, watching. He was as uneasy as Kitty had been on the plane. Perhaps she’d seen something like this coming.

  “It’s complicated,” he said.

  Lauren stopped in her tracks. Rowan nearly plowed into her. “Simplify it.”

  Chapter 20

  Lauren and Rowan were taken to different rooms. Henry pitched a fit about being separated from his mother, but the MPs refused to allow the infant to be sequestered with Lauren. They left her alone in a small room with only two wooden chairs that looked like something from the 1940s. The wait seemed unnecessarily long, and she spent it pacing; growing more and more angry.

  By the time the Secretary of Homeland Security came in, her blood was boiling. She could feel the heat in her cheeks as she turned on him and gave him the same tongue lashing she’d given her brother. When she finally finished in a choking profanity, the secretary looked at her flatly and asked, “Are you done?”

  “I’ve spoken my mind,” she said, without flinching.

  “Then have a seat,” he said. “I have questions.”

  “I’m certain the first is probably What happened in Michael’s lab?” Lauren posed.

  The man lifted a shoulder. “It’s as good a place as any to start.” He sat back with a notepad on his knee and a pen in his hand.

  Patiently, she started at the beginning, providing only the information that was pertinent to the events that transpired leading up to and including when Kitty and the Estonian goon had shown up. She explained how Malakoff had pulled a gun on the team and tried to destroy Michael’s work rather than allow Kitty to confiscate his data.

  “Malakoff turned on Kitty?” The Secretary’s brow lifted as he paused in his scribbling. “Not the other way around?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Kitty didn’t pull a gun?” He asked.

  “I never saw Kitty draw a weapon,” Lauren shook her head. “He’s the one that shot Dr. Cameron and Dr. Dlamani.”

  “Okay, so what happened next?” he asked. The story continued with the melee between Rowan and Michael against Malakoff and Kitty getting knocked into the table. “So, how did Malakoff get injured?”

  “Oh, Kitty did do that,” Lauren said proudly. “She sprayed him in the face with a fire extinguisher, then clobbered him over the head with it.”

  “What happened next?”

  “I don’t know if I can answer that.” Lauren sat back, crossing her arms.

  “Why not?”

  “I got shot,” Lauren said. “Michael, too.”

  Frank looked up at her sharply. “Shot?”

  “Malakoff shot Michael ... and I got hit, too.” She lifted her shirt, intending to show him the mark, but her flesh was unmarred. No evidence remained of the bullet wound.

  “I’m sorry, Dr. Pierce, but the math just doesn’t add up.” He shook his head, putting his pen down, scratching his cheek. “A bullet each in Dr. Cameron and Dr. Dlamani, and a bullet hit you and one hit your brother? The ballistics doesn’t support that.”

  Lauren sat shaking her head. “Same bullet that hit me, hit Michael.”

  “But you don’t have a mark? You’re a scientist, Dr. Pierce, surely you respect the evidence I’m working with.”

  “I understand your logic,” she said. “But there’s more going on than meets the eye.”

  “You said your brother was shot? Where is he now?”

  Lauren’s eyes lifted to the ceiling. “Up there.”

  His expression dropped. “Oh, Dr. Pierce, I’m sorry for your loss.” His tone dropped, too.

  “He isn’t dead,” she said.

  “Wait, what?”

  Lauren’s expression said more than her words ever could. The man paled as it sunk in what she was implying, and she was quite confident she’d just blown his mind.

  * * *

  Frank finished interviewing Dr. Pierce and her husband and paced the now empty tarmac in the moonlight, smoking a cigarette and trying to take it all in. He was trying to make sense of it all before he began the interrogation of his own operative. Rowan had told almost the exact same story his wife had told, almost verbatim. He’d seen people try to synch up their stories and do a worse job than these two had. While the perspectives were different, the chain of events matched up. Anyone else, he might have pressed harder, or harassed more, but he’d seen their show, and knew the mission of their work; the truth. He did not expect that either would lie to him.

  He glanced up at the night sky. The moonless dark was spattered with stars that weren’t typically visible in DC. He thought about those summer fishing trips with his grandpa when they’d sit by the fire after a day on the river and watch the stars overhead. He wanted to believe there was something out there bigger than them, but he also feared for the human race if Dr. & Mr. Pierce were telling the truth.

  He dropped the cigarette butt and crushed it under his shoe before going back in to take care of the last matter at hand. An MP met him a
t the door. “A problem, sir.”

  “What?”

  “Dr. Pierce is insisting she needs to nurse her son,” he said.

  “Fine,” Frank said, dismissively. “I’m done talking to them. I’m going to talk to Dr. Donovan.”

  * * *

  When the door opened, Kitty popped up from the chair in the otherwise empty room. “Sir.”

  He waved her off. “Have a seat, Dr. Donovan,” he instructed. She sank back into the chair. “What happened in South Africa? I want to know everything, start to finish.”

  “Sir.” She hesitated. “You’re not going to believe half of it.”

  “Try me,” he said. “And don’t try to sugar coat anything. You’ve been accused of treason, murder, and assault. I’m not going to go to battle for you if I can’t trust you to tell me the truth.”

  “Have you talked to Lauren and Rowan already?”

  “I’m talking to you,” he said curtly. “Now, spill it.”

  Kitty eyed him for a moment and finally took a deep breath, letting it out in a wavering sigh. She sat back, and told him everything. Her version was no different from that of the Pierces’. Frank had no reason not to believe them, any of them.

  “Malakoff all but admitted to killing Alexei Budnikov,” Kitty added. “He has to be brought to justice,” she said, eyeing down the secretary, trying to figure out how well received her tall tale had been. He finally sat back and nodded, and no words were needed. Kitty was finally able to relax.

  * * *

  MPs came to the door, and escorted Kitty into the room where Rowan and Lauren were waiting. Rowan looked like he was about to drop, but Lauren was playing pat-a-cake with Henry and his Fishy.

  “Wheels up in thirty,” Frank said, pausing at the door.

  “Wait.” Rowan stood. “What’s going on? What is this place?”

  “This is a space port,” Frank paused. “Western Oklahoma. It was an emergency backup landing site for the Space Shuttle program before it was shuttered. We use it now for clandestine meetings and other emergency landing situations,” Frank explained. “Malakoff alleged Dr. Donovan had turned on him, and that she and Dr. Grayson were trying to steal the data from his project to sell to the Russians. He said Kitty tried to kill him.”