The Visitor

by Brent Ayscough

  “Yes, sir,” Duncan responded. “I have the coordinates and will super-cruise to intercept,” he said, pushing his F-22 into supersonic speed.

  ***

  BONG!

  A second warning sounded from Tak’s shuttle computer.

  “There are two native warships in the area below,” the computer reported. “They are both powered by ignited petroleum. One just fired a laser at a rocket with different fuel to destroy it. The other one is smaller and just fired an explosive weapon at a ground based vehicle and destroyed it.”

  Her screen plotted the current location of the 747 and the F-22 and showed her an image of the SCUD that was destroyed by the laser.

  “The smaller one is now traveling toward this shuttle at 1225 miles per hour. The larger one is not approaching, and its configuration makes it unlikely that it can travel significantly faster in the atmosphere than the speed at which it is now travelling, 580 miles per hour.”

  ***

  Back on the ground, Burkett and Hight, from different locations, watched the F-22 close in on the object on their screens.

  Burkett radioed Duncan in the plane. “What’ve you got?”

  “Standby, sir,” Duncan answered. “It’ll be in visual range very soon.”

  ***

  Tak watched her screen closely as the craft behind her and to the left closed the distance between them. How could she possibly have been detected?

  Before she had left, the computer carefully set a course so as not to collide with any of nine thousand objects in orbit around the planet.

  She touched the manual thruster knob and wondered if she should go back into space to radio an emergency message to the starship, even before she ever got to the planet. What options were there? Maybe she could alter course slightly to another section of America or--where?

  “Computer, if we alter our course but still land in the country called America, can we escape the craft in pursuit?”

  “Unlikely,” the computer answered. “Calculating from the mass it is losing by burning its fuel, it is estimated that the pursuit craft is likely to have sufficient range to be able to follow five hundred miles in any direction if it is to return, or double that if it does not need to return to our present location. But natives on the surface are in communication with the craft, and it can be expected that other craft will follow, if that one expends its fuel. More can be expected if you engage in a chase and attempt to remain within the boundaries of this country. The range of the larger craft with the laser may be much farther, although from its shape, it is much slower.”

  “How fast can the smaller, faster one travel?”

  “There are records taken by the starship showing such smaller aircraft going as fast as 1800 miles per hour. It’s currently approaching at 1225 miles per hour.”

  As Tak considered her options, the F-22 closed the gap, came up within five miles of the shuttle, and continued to close, reducing to subsonic speed.

  Duncan radioed Burkett and Hight, who was also now listening to the transmission from NORAD. “I have it in sight now. It appears to be a black vehicle, somewhat resembling a NASA lifting body. It’s traveling at two hundred eighty eight knots and descending at one thousand six hundred feet per minute. It appears to be gliding without power. Present altitude is fifty eight thousand feet.”

  Burkett asked a question that had already been answered. “Did you say gliding?”

  “Affirmative.”

  Duncan expertly adjusted his control stick to move his F-22 in closer to the shuttle.

  “The pursuit craft’s radio frequency has been located, and the transmissions between it and the surface are now on your screen, translated,” Tak’s computer said.

  “Put future communications in the native language, English,” Tak directed the computer. “If the aircraft fires its weapons, take defensive action without my command.”

  Duncan throttled back, positioned his F-22 right alongside the unidentified vehicle, and then carefully dialed back his speed so he was descending at the exact rate of descent as the other vehicle. He closed the gap, so that his wing tip was only thirty feet away. Duncan took his eyes off his instruments and looked over to see what he could as to how the oddity next to him was flying. To his surprise, through the windshield he saw a very attractive female, with bright red hair, wearing no helmet, and without any oxygen mask, such that her head and face were entirely visible. This was the first actual face-to-face encounter between a human and an alien, but Duncan didn’t know it.

  “A glider at fifty-eight thousand feet that has descended from at least one hundred fifty-seven thousand feet?” Burkett asked. “How in the hell did a glider get to one hundred fifty-seven thousand feet? And,” he added in an unintentional sexist remark, “with a female pilot?”

  “Well, if it’s a glider, it can’t go too awfully far,” Hight said. “We’ll get working on its speed, the winds, its trajectory, and see where it will likely land if it continues its present course. Hawkins,” he ordered. “Get winds aloft data and plot the probable landing of the craft, assuming it is gliding and will continue at its present rate of speed, descent, and direction.”

  “Yes, sir,” Hawkins answered, but he was already working on it as that was the sort of thing he did. “I have your answer,” he announced in less than thirty seconds. “Kansas.”

  “There’s no glider that can go up that high,” Hight protested.

  “See if you can make contact,” Burkett said to Captain Duncan. “I want you to force her to land at one of our bases. She is flying in civilian class ‘A’ airspace with no flight plan. Based on that, you are authorized by me to force her down.”

  Tak looked over at the fighter pilot while listening to their communications. He was wearing an air force helmet, the dark face shield covering his face, an oxygen tube connected to his mask, and a communications wire to the built-in headset.

  He looked like a robot compared to Tak, who had nothing at all on her head, as though taking a boat ride on a lake on a Sunday afternoon.

  Duncan switched to a civilian frequency used by aircraft in air-to-air communications, 122.75 Megahertz. “Glider pilot. This is Captain Duncan, United States Air Force. You are being monitored by an air force station at White Sands, New Mexico, as well as NORAD at Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado. You are flying in class-A airspace without clearance. You are ordered to follow me to an airbase.”

  Tak heard the message. “Computer. What is “NORAD”?

  “No information,” Computer answered.

  Nervous, Tak wondered what her options were. She turned to the pilot in the craft next to her and gave him her most attractive smile.

  Captain Duncan could hardly believe his eyes. A strikingly attractive woman had just descended from altitudes where only space craft could tread and was now gliding toward Earth, no helmet or even a headset on--and she smiles?

  “What’s going on?” Burkett demanded.

  “She’s smiling.”

  “What?” he nearly shouted.

  “Smiling, sir.”

  “You order her down!”

  “I don’t think she has a radio, sir. She isn’t wearing a headset.”

  “Then you motion her to come down!”

  “Sir, she’s in a gliding craft. She appears to be descending by gravity alone and traveling with the prevailing winds. Since she’s already coming down, I don’t think she can come down any faster.”

  “Then you make sure she follows you.”

  Duncan put up his hand and motioned for her to follow him.

  “What is she doing now?” Burkett asked.

  “Still smiling.”

  Tak heard that on her radio, which was monitoring their frequency. She had to make a decision and quickly. Abort the mission or go on? She could thrust out into space and call for the starship or stay and try to complete her mission. At any rate, Kansas appeared to be out. Perhaps the next the next large land mass known as Europe would do.

  “Computer, find
a sparsely populated area well within the land mass called Europe and plot a course. Engage the thruster.”

  The roar of the powerful thruster overshadowed everything else. The shuttle was soon traveling at seventeen thousand miles per hour while still in the atmosphere, and then it went up and east, leaving the Earth.

  “My God!” Duncan gasped. “Did you see that?”

  At NORAD, Hight could see the shuttle image on his screen. It was traveling at a tremendous speed, climbing, and leaving the continental United States. “That couldn’t be the glider you were pacing, could it?” he asked Duncan sarcastically. “A glider at seventeen thousand miles an hour?”

  “It’s some kind of rocket,” Duncan said.

  “No shit. I have it on our satellite heading over the Atlantic toward Europe. We can switch to another satellite and see if we can pick it up in Europe. We should be able to trace it there, if all goes well. This used to be written up as a UFO, but we should report this to Homeland Security. This is some sort of new vehicle we have never seen before that can travel at hypersonic speeds. Not even our experimental hypersonic rockets can fly anywhere close to that speed. This could be a real threat. But from who?”

  The government people, who were there for the test, looked to Colonel Burkett for an explanation of what had just happened.

  ***

  In space, the computer shut down the thruster.

  “Have you set up the new landing spot?” Tak asked it.

  “Yes,” it answered.

  Her screen showed the landing spot on the section of the map called Europe. The area was on the dark side of the planet but the computer showed the land mass clearly.

  “Select a spot in a remote area, as far as possible away from any large cities.”

  She figured that seemed like a good possiblity to land without being noticed.

  “Acknowledged.”

  The computer selected a spot from its mapped topography, showing it on the shuttle screen. It displayed the topography of the landing spot, the weather there, and other factors needed to make a perfect glide slope. It also displayed calculations of the weight of the shuttle as decreased by use of fuel to land in Europe, gravity of the earth, speed at all times, drag of the atmosphere at all relevant altitudes, effects of the known and measurable winds, and the incidental gravitational pull of the sun and the moon. It had the ability to determine if it was not on the calculated course of glide slope and to make corrections.

  The selection was on the pasture of a farm. A lush, green field presented itself within eyesight range ahead. It was night, but there was illumination from a bright moon, and Tak could see the landing field visually through the canopy. It was filled with new grass coming up, following the winter.

  The craft was designed to land slowly on its belly skids, as it was not intended for repeated use. With trepidation, Tak held her breath as the shuttle touched down at a very slow speed and slid to a stop.

  A rush of excitement overcame her as she landed. This was her first mission alone. She looked through the windshield at the lush, green pasture. It’s a farm! There were no warships to intercept her. The computer had successfully selected a remote spot, not close to natives. People, the word is. From now on, it is English. Or, do they speak English here?

  She raised the canopy and took her first breath of Earth’s air. It was cool and refreshing air, full of the delightful odor of farm vegetation and moist, tilled soil. The exhilaration of the mission, along with the fresh air, filled her lungs and fueled her ambition. She set the computer to warn of native vessels, got out, and reached in for her satchel. It was too dark to venture out now. Had she been detected? Were more warships on their way?

  The best move, she concluded, would be to wait, without destroying the shuttle in case warships came, in which case she could climb in, head back out of the atmosphere, and call for her starship. She leaned against her shuttle, waiting for night to pass, absorbed in the mesmerizing odor of the farm with the beauty of moonlight.

  Off in one direction, she noticed the outline of a farmhouse. She could walk there at first light. But she would have to destroy the shuttle, so as not to leave evidence of her visit. That was an apprehensive notion after the encounter earlier. But here she was on a mission.

  After a while, light could be seen in the sky to the east. High cirrus clouds began to refract shades of pink, presenting a delightful greeting to her entrance on the planet. Rain was on its way, perhaps later in the day.

  There being no apparent threat, she decided to carry on with the mission. She checked her computer bracelet on her wrist to see if it was functioning, just to be sure. It was. Resembling a large wrist watch, it had a screen and a removable blue object that looked like a lapis jewel.

  She took from the satchel one of several small balls, each just a bit bigger than a large grape. Touching one to her wrist computer, she commanded it to determine the mass of the shuttle and to activate the self-destruct in three minutes.

  “Acknowledged. Disintegration will be in three minutes. Move away from the shuttle.”

  She put the ball into the shuttle and began to walk toward the farmhouse to the east. She then turned and looked back. The shuttle began to glow and then disappeared. It’s gone! Loneliness and an empty feeling set in with the absence of the security the shuttle brought. Her escape had vaporized with the shuttle.

  On with the mission, she ordered herself, trying to fortify her resolve. She bounced a bit due to lighter gravity than what she was used to. As she walked east, the sunlight crept out, reflecting against the high cirrus clouds, creating a beautiful pink color--her first such early daylight sight on the planet, and one she would always remember. The morning dew soaked the growing vegetation and her boots.

  After a time, she could make out not one, but two structures ahead. She could see that one was a dwelling, and the other a storage place. Barn was the word.

  Two men had just driven up on a tractor, gotten off, and gone to sit on the porch. Both were middle-aged men. Early rising farmers. It had become their practice to meet once a week to talk.

  As she approached, they noticed her, stopped talking, and stared. There had been no hikers or pedestrians at that farm before.

  Tak had chosen, in an attempt to blend in with the native dress, an outfit of black boots, black pants, a gray sweater, and a black jacket made of a substance that resembled leather. But her clothes were certainly not those of a farm girl, or a nature-loving hiker. She was quite out of place as far as the two men were concerned. They continued to stare and said nothing.

  She got ready to speak the first words to the human race. “Hello. I wish to go to the nearest town.”

  The men began to talk among themselves in a language Tak did not understand.

  “English,” one of them said, a relief to her as it was the first word she understood.

  Her wrist computer was on all the time and recording this language so as to learn it. The computer would remain on during the entire Earth excursion.

  “I speak little English,” said the younger man, holding up his hand with his thumb and forefinger an inch apart to indicate a measure of a small amount.

  “Would either of you be willing to take me to the closest town?” she asked.

  The one who spoke translated her request to his friend. They looked at her, then at each other, and then back at her, evaluating her request. Both of them then began a very intense discussion in their native tongue over the topic. Their voices rose at times, and the conversation elevated to a debate. Strong views were expressed

  The English-speaking man turned to Tak. “He does not think it proper to take a young woman to town. But I do not agree. I would take you to town. But neither of us have a car and I do not drive.”

  How strange that they debated whether or not to do what they cannot even do. It was time to move on. “Thank you. What’s the name of the next town?”

  “Wieliczka.” He pointed down the only road.

  “Thank
you.”

  Off she went on foot, along the rough dirt road, on her mission to learn the ways of the natives of the planet.

  CHAPTER 2

  Raymond Houser, Homeland Security Director, came in early. He worked long hours and wanted to be advised of any new developments, if at all suspect, immediately. He required his staff to condense situations into brief summaries to save time. Sixty, gray hair, medium build, and very well dressed, he was often called on with short notice to see the joint chiefs, the president, the head of the FBI, the CIA, or some other very important person.

  Richard Ralls, formerly with the CIA and now one of the top operatives under Hauser, waited for his turn to see the director about a new development that was indeed curious. Richard was thirty-nine, in excellent shape, just under six feet tall, dark hair, and had a ruddy complexion.

  It was 8 a.m. when he was ushered in. The director, already sitting at his desk, motioned for Ralls to take a seat. A secretary brought over a tray with an insulated coffee flask, sweeteners, and cream so he could fix his coffee as and when he preferred. Ralls fixed himself a cup and began his presentation without further delay. He needed to utilize the time he had, as they had to deal with all the world-wide threats that came in every hour of the day.

  “Director, we have something quite unusual. The military was conducting a test yesterday with our 747 mounted laser to knock out a mobile-based SCUD missile over White Sands. During the test, an intruder aircraft, somewhat resembling a NASA gliding craft with almost no radar signature, glided down over the test area from very high. It was first recorded at one-hundred-fifty-seven-thousand feet--which means it presumably started higher--and then, at over fifty-thousand feet, when approached by our F-22, which was airborne as part of the SCUD missile test and armed. The jet was sent to intercept and order it down. Instead of complying, it sped from its slow glide to seventeen-thousand miles per hour while still in the atmosphere, then it headed up and east, out of the atmosphere. We then tracked to a spot in rural Poland where it landed.”