Platoon F: Pentalogy

by John P. Logsdon

  “Can you tap into them?”

  “I should be able to. Just a thec.”

  He started typing as Harr kept an eye on the house in the distance. He’d thought he’d seen a momentary glint of light from the front entrance, but he wasn’t sure. Pulling forth his own datapad, he picked up the signal and zoomed in. Sure enough, there was a man walking their way and he was holding a metal stick of some sort. Harr didn’t know what the stick was, but he doubted it was a good thing.

  “Got it,” said Hank.

  “Hmmm?”

  “The signal, thir. It’s locked in.”

  “Put it on speaker.”

  The only thing that came through was static. Harr tried to make out patterns, but it sounded very random to him. It reminded him of when his favorite Vidstation would go off the air early in the morning.

  Every few seconds, Hank adjusted the frequency, until…

  This just in, this just in. Captain Midnight wants you to send in your proofs-of-purchase for your Ovaltine jars. By doing so, you’ll be able to get your special agent decoder ring, a Captain Midnight badge, or a special pin. Remember, Ovaltine is an anagram for “Vital One!”

  “I wonder who this Captain Midnight is,” said Harr, looking concerned as he kept his eye on the incoming man.

  “I don’t know,” said Hank, “but he seems to be seeking agents for some vital cauthe.”

  “Agreed,” said Harr as he closed down his pad. “Keep an ear on that modulation in case anything else comes up.” Then he pointed up at the screen. “I have to go and figure out how to handle this.”

  MILITARY

  “Captain Harr,” said Senior Diplomat Parfait in a stern voice, “I was sent here as a diplomat. My job is to build relations with these people. To keep me inside the ship while you go out there alone is nonsensical. I’m supposed to be the first one to probe that man…uh…for information.”

  “I understand your position, sir,” said Harr with a sigh, “and I do agree that diplomatic relations is not exactly my strong suit. But there is a man standing outside holding what I can only assume is a weapon. Now, if that is true, he may well cut you down the moment you step out of the ship.”

  “Oh,” said Parfait, obviously reconsidering his stance. “That’s different, then. You’re right, you should probably talk with him first.”

  Harr nodded stiffly before activating the bay door. It lowered smoothly, hardly making a sound. He looked back, gesturing that everyone hide so as not to scare the Earthling. As soon as he stepped out, he pressed a button on his belt that caused the ramp to go back up.

  “Who’re you?” said the man, not really looking all that worried.

  “My name is Don Harr. I’m the captain of this vessel.”

  The man squinted and then spit a dark brown wad of something out of his mouth. He had blue eyes, a ruddy complexion that spelled he’d spent too much time being bombarded with UVBs, and he appeared to need a shave.

  “You look like you could be Captain America.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Military, eh?”

  “Yes, sir,” said Harr.

  “Name’s Mac,” the fellow said.

  “No, it’s Harr. Don Harr.”

  “My name is Mac.”

  “Oh, yes. Right.”

  Mac walked around the front of the ship, looking it all up and down. He grunted now and then, between spits, and he occasionally reached up to touch the hull.

  “Experimental airplane of some sort, yeah?”

  Harr considered the persnickety nature of the GONE Drive. “Definitely experimental.”

  “Thought so. This thing ain’t even got wings.”

  Looking up at The Reluctant, Harr wondered why a spaceship would need wings. Maybe the Earthlings had learned a different brand of technology than the Segnalians. That would be excellent. To be able to share capabilities with others was the purpose of this mission, after all.

  Mac suddenly turned around and looked off into the distance, putting his hand up to shield his eyes from the sun.

  “Well, looks like your buddies are coming to pick you up,” he said and then spit again.

  “My buddies?”

  “You said you was military,” Mac said. “Here comes a few Jeeps.”

  The captain shielded his own eyes and saw a couple of moving boxes headed his way. They looked similar to the Segnalian Cruisepods that the SSMC used to use before they moved over to magnetic lift vehicles.

  If this truly was the military coming his way, there may be trouble. Harr made that connection only because if this had been Segnal, the landing ship would, if nothing else, be surrounded by tons of vehicles within minutes. On top of that, while Mac had made the leap that The Reluctant was just an experimental military ship, Harr assumed that the men heading his way were well aware that it was not.

  The Jeeps rolled up, stirring all sorts of dust in the process. Harr was thankful to have his nasal filters in.

  “Mac,” said a man who stepped out of the Jeep, nodding at the civilian.

  The fellow was wearing a light brown uniform that housed a thin tie. He had a few medals on his pocket, but Harr didn’t know what they represented. However, the very fact that there were more on his shirt than there were on the shirts of the other soldiers with him told Harr that this was their commander.

  “Jesse,” Mac said, reaching out to shake the soldier’s hand.

  “You two been talking long?” asked Jesse.

  “Nah,” said Mac, and then he spit. “Just come up here after I seen this in my field. Figured it was one of yours.”

  Jesse looked up at Harr. Harr nodded gently.

  “Right, right,” said Jesse, putting his arm around the civilian’s shoulder. “You know how it is, Mac. The Air Force creates some crazy contraption, flies it all over the place, it breaks down cause they don’t know how to find their asses with both hands, and then we gotta come out and pick up the pieces.”

  “Just like on them radio shows,” said Mac.

  “Just like.” Jesse then turned Mac a bit and looked him square in the eye. “You know I hate to ask, Mac, but it’s my duty and all.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I gotta get you to promise to not say a word about this to nobody.”

  “Ah, hell, Jesse.” Another spit. “Who am I gonna tell?”

  “Well, your wife for one.”

  “She’s the one that told me it was out here in the first place.”

  “Hmmm,” said Jesse. “Maybe we should have a word with her.”

  “Nah, I’ll tell her to keep her trap shut. Besides, the only people she talks to are those women down at…” Mac paused. “Damn, I get your point.”

  “I’ll send someone down to your house in a bit. Just keep her busy until then, will ya?”

  “Will do.” Mac started to mosey on back, but stopped and gave a quick wave to Harr. “Good meeting ya.”

  “You too,” said Harr.

  As soon as Mac was out of earshot, Jesse stepped up and shook Harr’s hand. “Well, well, well, you speak English well enough.”

  Harr pointed at his necklace.

  “What’s that?”

  “Universal Translator,” said Harr. “It’s almost 100% reliable.”

  “Almost?”

  “Let’s just say that it works with other humanoids decently, but not always with gurgle type aliens.”

  Jesse seemed awfully calm for someone who was face-to-face with an off-worlder. This made Harr assume that this was nothing new to the Earth’s military.

  “Right,” said Jessie with a smile. “Joke’s up, now. I especially love the superhero look you’ve got going on. Really adds to the gag. Who’s your CO?”

  Harr furrowed his brow. “Well, typically it’s the Rear Admiral on my ship, but he’s currently been reassigned as Senior Diplomat, so I really don’t know who would be my CO at the moment.”

  Jessie rubbed his chin. “Hmmm.”

  “You wouldn’t know them anyway,” said
Harr.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, they’ve never been to your planet before.”

  “Haha,” said Jesse, slapping his knee. The other soldiers joined in. “You special operations boys really know how to hold on to a joke, don’t ya?”

  “Not typically, no,” said Harr, feeling confused.

  “All right, all right. I’ll play along,” said Jesse with a wink toward the other men. “What planet are you from, Mr. Alien?”

  “We’re from Segnal Prime, but we’re representing all of the Segnal System. And, you don’t need to call me Mr. Alien. My name is Captain Don Harr.”

  “Oh, well, Captain Harr. My apologies.” The men laughed again. “Wait a second, are you telling me that your name in military ranks is Captain Harr, Don?” More laughter.

  “Sadly, I am,” said Harr with a grimace.

  “Sorry, Captain, but that’s damn funny right there.” He wiped his eyes after a moment and then said, “Okay, let’s get serious now, if you will. I don’t have all day to stand out here playing games.” He then pointed toward Mac’s house. “I’ve got to go deal with those civvies over there so that they don’t go about blabbing about your…” he looked up, “…well, whatever the hell this is.”

  “It’s a spaceship,” said Harr, eliciting another laugh.

  “I’m sure it is, Captain. I’m sure it is. I get that you can’t tell me the details. National security and all that, but I’ve got clearance, see?”

  Harr didn’t, but he also didn’t care. The point of this trip was to meet with these people and trade technology and build relations and…well, that’s about it, Harr supposed. That’s when he remembered that his role was not meant to be one of diplomacy. That was was Parfait’s job.

  He tapped his belt and the ship’s ramp came down.

  Speaking into his wrist, he said, “Send out Senior Diplomat Parfait, please.”

  A couple moments later, Parfait stepped onto the platform looking like a complete fool.

  He was wearing the Inquisitor’s outfit, hat and all.

  AREA 51

  “…and they never would have brought us here had I not worn the outfit, Captain,” whispered Parfait as the Jeep pulled into the complex. “They think I’m someone called Pepe. He must be popular.”

  “I think they said Pope.”

  Parfait shrugged. “Don’t know who that is either.”

  They were inside a large hangar that housed all sorts of interesting ships. At least now Harr understood why Mac had expected The Reluctant to have wings. Every craft sitting in the building were outfitted with them, after all.

  “Your eminence?” said Jesse as he helped Parfait out of the Jeep.

  “I say,” said Parfait, “thank you, young man.”

  “My pleasure, sir.”

  “Is this your base of operations, then?”

  “Indeed, it is. This is where we keep the experimental aircraft…” he paused “…that we’re aware of anyway.” Jesse pointed and said, “Over there are the men’s barracks.” Parfait began walking that way, but Jesse grabbed his elbow and pointed again, “That red building there houses our cafeteria, and the one next to it is the command center.”

  Jesse began walking toward the command center, pulling Parfait along with him.

  Harr made a quick call back to the ship, “Lieutenant Moon, we are heading into a command center. I’m assuming we’ll be talking with the brass. I would appreciate it if you could make sure Geezer is equipped with every person on that ship who has any engineering sense at all. I want that GONE Drive fixed.”

  “Aye, aye, thir.”

  The command center had one door that opened into a series of hallways. In the middle stood a lift. They all stepped inside, and Jesse pressed a button, smiling at Harr and giving him a nod. But something in his eyes said that he knew more than he was giving away.

  The doors opened to a large conference room that overlooked a stadium full of men who were working on what appeared to be computers. At the front of the stadium was an enormous screen that contained the image of The SSMC Reluctant. Two older gentlemen were sitting at the main table in the room. One of them looked perturbed.

  “Who are you?”

  Parfait took a step forward, but a young muscular man who was standing by the door stepped out and blocked his way.

  “Uh, I’m Pepe.”

  “Pepe, eh? You look like the goddamn Pope.”

  “Ah, yes, that’s it,” said Parfait with a smile. “You were right, Captain. They did say Pope.”

  “Who are you really?”

  Before Parfait could answer with what would no doubt be another story, Harr decided it was in his best interest to step in. The fact was that these gentlemen were more like him. They were military. Parfait was too, of course, but he was of a different brand.

  “Sir,” said Harr, coming to attention, “my name is Don Harr. I am the Captain of the ship on your screen. It’s called The SSMC Reluctant. We are from the planet Segnal, and we are here on a diplomatic mission.”

  “Segnal, eh? And where, pray tell is that?”

  “It is 11 light years from here, sir.”

  The two commanders looked at each other and then huddled in, talking in whispers. The one commander started saying, “In my time, we…” but the other one cut him off.

  “What is it you want from us?”

  “To share technology, philosophy…and all of the things that could benefit both of our societies.”

  “Sounds to me like you want war.”

  “War?” said Parfait with a quick cobweb-clearing shake of his head. “We don’t want war. We’re a peace-loving planet. Well, most of us anyway. There is Conster. He’s a pain in the rump, and not the good kind either, let me tell you.”

  “How did you know my name?” said the commander with the bad attitude.

  “Pardon?”

  “Don’t play dumb with me, Pepe. You just said my name.” He then looked over at Jesse. “Major, did you inform these two men who they would be seeing down here?”

  “No, sir!”

  “So you did a little recon on us, did you? Sounds like espionage to me. Sounds like an act of war!”

  “Oh, come now, Harry,” said the other commander. “Pepe said that one of the people on his planet was named Conster, not Consor.”

  “Pretty damn coincidental, don’t you think?”

  “Not really, no. They’re speaking English after all, so I would assume that they have the same grouping of letters that we do, and that would mean that, eventually, they’d end up with a name similar to Consor. Hell, I’m sure that they even have someone with my last name.”

  “Perfey?” said Consor.

  “Close,” said Parfait. “My last name is Parfait.”

  “Like the frozen treat?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “Never mind,” said Consor. “The fact that you’ve landed on our planet uninvited is a clear act of aggression!”

  “How could we have been invited?” asked Harr. “Do you have interstellar communications capability?”

  “What? I don’t think…that’s not the point!”

  “It’s not?”

  “Not as far as I can see, no. You’re here unwanted. That’s an act of war.”

  Captain Harr sighed. The Conster and Consor names did have one thing in common, they both belonged to bloodthirsty military brass.

  “Okay, Commander Consor,” said Perfey, “that’s enough.” Perfey then stood up and walked over, offering his hand. “I apologize for my counterpart, gentlemen. He’s a bit high strung. I, on the other hand, love this outfit you’re wearing, Mr. Parfait.”

  “Oh? Why thank you.”

  “The pointy hat is beautifully etched, and I’m assuming you’ve got on tights under that robe?”

  “Of course.”

  “Hmmm, I’d like to see—”

  Harr turned toward Jesse and said, “So you knew all along?”

  “Yes, sir, but not all of my soldier
s did. Had to keep them guessing for now. We’ve been expecting something like this for a long while now. We figured that we couldn’t be alone in the universe.”

  “So you’re telling me that we’re the first alien race you’ve seen?”

  “There are other countries on this planet, but as far as I know, you’re the first to ever land in the good old U. S. of A.”

  Stepping further away from Perfey and Parfait, pulling Jesse along with him, Harr said, “I think we have a lot more in common than you may know.”

  “Oh?”

  Harr glanced again at Consor, who was mumbling something under his breath. He glanced back at the two commanders who were comparing notes on “lighter” things. Finally, he returned to looking at his own counterpart, and said. “A lot more.”

  ALIEN FILES

  For the next two days Harr and Parfait participated in interviews and meals with the brass, and also a few tours. They were taken to every underground building, subjecting themselves to a number of tests and physicals, and Harr even went on a flight with one of the fighter pilots.

  It was fun.

  Until…

  “Ah,” said Perfey as they came back from a picnic lunch, “I was wondering when you were going to get here, Curtis.”

  The man who was in the room had slicked back hair and a dark complexion. He wore a pair of slacks and with a white blazer and sported tall leather boots. One glance over at Parfait and Harr could tell that the Senior Diplomat approved.

  “Belmont Perfey,” said Curtis in a grandiose voice as he hopped to his feet, “it’s been years since I’ve seen you.”

  The two men embraced like old friends…really good friends…really really good friends. Even Parfait seemed to become uncomfortable after a while…that’s how good of friends these two were.

  Harr cleared his throat.

  “Hmmm?” said Perfey. “Oh, yes! How rude of me. Here is the reason I brought you to base, Curtis. This is Senior Diplomat Stanley Parfait, and this is Captain Don Harr.”

  “My pleasure, I’m sure,” said Curtis. “Nice chin, Captain. And is that a year-round tan?”