Saucer s-1

by Stephen Coonts

  'Well, hello friend. Didn't expect you.' The words were English, the voice definitely American.

  The flashlight played over the skin of the ship. Did he have the cover closed before the flashlight beam hit him? He decided he did.

  The voice reflected its owner's amazement. 'By all that's holy! It is a flying saucer!'

  'Or a good mock-up.' That was an American voice too, a woman's.

  Chapter Four

  'Who are you people?' Rip asked and pointed his own flashlight toward the voices. He saw a khaki uniform and a gray-green flight suit.

  'U.S. Air Force. And just who are you?' A male voice with a flat Texas twang to it.

  'Name's Rip Cantrell.'

  'Did you fly this thing here?'

  'Yeah, sure. I just park it under this tarp when we need to work on it. Don't want it to get rained on.'

  'Who you work for, smart-ass?'

  'Wellstar Petroleum. We're seismic surveyors.'

  'Uh-huh.' They were standing just above him, near the edge of the rock ledge, looking under the flap of the tarp at the saucer. The man was in his thirties, maybe, and the woman was… well, with just the flashlight, it was hard to tell. Mid twenties. Late twenties, perhaps. Pretty, with her hair pulled back in a ponytail, wearing a flight suit and a flight jacket.

  'You people got names?' Rip asked.

  'I'm Major Stiborek and this is Captain Pine.' He gestured toward the woman.

  'Not anymore,' the woman said. 'Now it's just plain ol' Charley Pine. I got out of the Air Force two weeks ago.'

  'What are you doing hanging around with these flyboys?'

  'Now I'm a civil servant. Same job.'

  'Get acquainted later,' the major snarled at her.

  'Easy, buddy,' Rip said. 'Don't be so touchy.'

  'We didn't expect to find Americans here,' Charley remarked.

  'Who did you expect to find?'

  She didn't answer. The major merely played his flashlight back and forth across the saucer.

  'Unbelievable,' he muttered to the woman, so softly that Rip almost missed it.

  Rip cleared his throat. 'So,' he said as matter-of-factly as he could, 'did your camel break down near here, or are you just scoping out desert real estate?'

  'Something like that.'

  'Or are you out snooping around?'

  The major was still running his flashlight back and forth over the saucer. After a moment or two he asked, 'Did your survey crew uncover this thing?'

  Rip flipped off his flashlight and stuck it in his hip pocket. 'Tell you what, Tex,' he said. 'This isn't Uncle Sam's business. Why don't you folks just buzz off into the wild black yonder?'

  'Sorry,' the woman said. She actually did sound sorry. 'This is government business.'

  'Bullshit,' Rip shot back, feeling his face flush. He hated being talked down to. 'We're smack in the middle of the Sahara Desert. You people get back on your camels and fork 'em out of here.'

  'There's six of our people down at the camp, kid,' the major said brusquely. 'You have two options. You can walk down like a gentleman to join your friends, or I can take you down there by the scruff of the neck.'

  Rip took two steps toward the ledge. The major's ankles were within range, so he grabbed them and pulled. The major smacked down hard on his butt, and groaned.

  'You've made your brag, buddy. You think you're man enough, you take me there.'

  'Rip!' Dutch Haagen's shout split the night. 'Get down here. We got company.'

  'Holy Jesus, Charley!' the major exclaimed. 'I think my left hip is broken.'

  'Mr. Cantrell,' the woman said, exasperated. 'Would you please be so kind as to help me carry Major Big Mouth to the camp?'

  'Just a minute,' Rip said and slipped under the saucer. He closed the hatch.

  When he got back to the groaning major and the woman, he said, 'So your name is Charley?'

  'Charlotte. Charley.'

  'Who are you people?' Rip asked her as they hoisted the major. Rip had the major's left arm over his shoulders, Pine his right.

  'I'm a test pilot,' she said. 'Major Macho is an aerospace engineer. Our boss, Colonel West, whom you will meet shortly, is head of the Air Force's UFO project.'

  'UFOs! Oh, wow. Did someone around here call you about one?'

  'Very funny. Our primary mission is to keep the public from panicking over unexplained phenomena.'

  'Let's not talk out of school, Charley,' Major Stiborek muttered.

  'How about I drop you again, Tex?'

  'Please be nice, Mr. Cantrell,' Charley Pine said. 'We've had a very long day. We started out thirty-six hours ago in Nevada.'

  'Charley!'

  'Shut up, Mike.'

  'Are you two married or something?' Rip asked.

  'Or something. A mistake I made in one of my weaker moments.'

  'Do you really like him or just need sex?'

  Major Stiborek cussed; Charley laughed. Rip thought she had a good laugh.

  'So you guys flew in from Cairo?'

  'From Aswan. And then rode twenty miles across the desert at night in a hummer.'

  Colonel West was talking when Rip and Charley Pine deposited the major by one of the lanterns that was brilliantly illuminating the camp area. The colonel and five enlisted men stood facing Bill, Dutch, and Professor Soldi. The Air Force people wore sweat-stained fatigues. The enlisted men carried rifles on straps over their shoulders. For the first time, Rip noticed that Major Stiborek and Charley Pine were wearing pistols in holsters, as was Colonel West. The vehicles the Air Force people had used were not in sight.

  West was saying: "… are here by the direct order of the National Command Authority. By that I mean the president of the United States. I certainly hope you gentlemen are going to give the United States government your full and complete cooperation.'

  'Well, of course, Colonel,' Dutch Haagen said, then looked curiously at the major, who was rubbing his hip and chewing savagely on his lower lip.

  'He had an accident,' Rip explained. 'Fell.'

  West had other things on his mind. 'I want to see this saucer shape. Will you please lead the way, Mr. Haagen?'

  'Before we go anywhere, Colonel,' Professor Soldi put in, 'perhaps we should have an understanding. This is an archaeological site, as defined by the United States Code. The Air Force has no jurisdiction whatever over an archaeological site. As a professional archaeologist, as defined by the United States Code, I do. I am in charge here.'

  'Don't go quoting law to me, Professor. We aren't in the United States, and I have my orders.'

  'I don't care about your orders, Colonel. I know American and international law. As an archaeologist, I have a moral and legal obligation to protect that artifact. I promise you that if it's harmed in any way you're going to wind up in front of a federal judge.'

  The colonel gave the professor a hard look.

  The professor glared right back. Rip had thought the archaeologist something of an old fossil, but now he revised his opinion.

  'Sergeant,' said Colonel West in a flinty voice, 'search these men and their gear for satellite telephones. Confiscate all the com gear you find.'

  'Yes, sir.'

  'This is my party, Professor,' West snarled. 'I intend to examine that thing. What happens after that depends on what I find.'

  'Is that a threat?'

  'Take it any way you like.'

  Soldi busied himself with his pipe before he spoke. 'No one is above the law, Colonel. The brass will swear they never told you to do anything illegal; they will fry you without a qualm to protect themselves. If I were you I'd keep that fact firmly in mind.'

  The colonel apparently decided to let Soldi have the last word.

  The sergeant frisked each of the civilians while several of the other men went through the gear in the tents. After he had been searched, Professor Soldi took a seat on one of the camp stools. Dutch sat down beside him.

  Rip found a seat in the sand beside Bill Taggart.

 
'You are welcome to accompany me, Professor,' the colonel said gruffly.

  'I warn you,' Soldi replied. He raised his voice. 'I warn all of you people. That artifact is protected by American and international law.'

  'We'll be careful,' the colonel rumbled. He picked up one of the camp lanterns and marched away. Captain Pine followed.

  Major Stiborek got slowly to his feet, massaging his rump. 'I owe you one, kid,' he told Rip and limped after the others.

  The sergeant detailed three men to watch the civilians. He went into the darkness and came back in a few minutes driving a hummer. He parked it with the headlights pointed at the saucer.

  'I guess we should have called your university yesterday,' Dutch said to Soldi.

  'I suppose.' Soldi fussed over his pipe. When he had it going well, he muttered, 'Damnation,' so softly that Rip almost missed it.

  The Air Force rigged lights. Soon the saucer was lit up like a museum exhibit.

  'How did they find out about the saucer?' Soldi wondered aloud. 'What do you think, Rip?'

  'Satellites, I suspect,' Haagen said. 'Or someone at your camp called someone. Does it matter?'

  'I guess not.'

  'Why does that guy owe you one?' Bill asked Rip.

  'He got mouthy. I dumped him on his ass.'

  One of the Air Force NCOs took a seat fifteen feet away facing them.

  'What the hell is going on here?' Rip demanded of the NCO. 'Are we prisoners or what?'

  'Can it, kid.'

  Rip went into the tent and shook out his sleeping bag. Haagen came in after him. 'The officers will be right back,' Rip told him. 'Unless they can figure out how to open the hatch.'

  'You closed it?'

  'Yeah.'

  'If we don't open the hatch for them, they might damage the saucer.'

  'You're kidding!'

  'They're going in one way or the other, I suspect. A detachment of U.S. Air Force people here, in the Sahara? By order of the president?'

  'Okay, okay. But I found that saucer. It's mine.'

  'Don't get cute with me, Rip. I'm no lawyer, but I don't think you have a claim. You don't even have a prayer. I don't think anybody knows exactly what country we're in.'

  'I know this,' Rip Cantrell whispered heatedly. 'My father left me a quarter of a million dollars and a third interest in a farm in Minnesota. I've got an uncle in Des Moines who's a junkyard dog lawyer; his speciality is biting people on the ass. You'll need a rabies shot if Uncle Olie gets anywhere close. With dad's money and my uncle's mouth, I can cause the Air Force a hell of a lot of grief.'

  'Hey, you!' they heard the major call.

  'Yeah.' That was Bill Taggart outside.

  'You know how to open the hatch on the saucer?'

  'This is your show, flyboy. I don't know shit.'

  Inside the tent, Haagen gestured with his thumb. 'Go open it for them, Rip. Stay with them, see if you can learn anything.'

  Rip went. The major was standing outside near the camp stove.

  'I can open that hatch, Big Mouth.'

  'Come on, kid.'

  He could feel Charley's eyes on his back as he crawled under the saucer and placed his hand on the hatch latch. He held it there for fifteen seconds or so, then pushed gently on one end. It moved out, and he grasped it and turned.

  The hatch came open, just as it had that first time, several days ago.

  The military officers sat stunned, amazed. Without a word Rip climbed into the ship and seated himself in the pilot's chair. He was sitting there when Colonel West stuck his head through the hatch. The glare of the floodlights outside through the pilot's canopy was the only light in the interior. It took several seconds for one's eyes to adjust to the dim lighting.

  West stood in the open hatch blinking and gawking. He looked all around, then slowly climbed in. Behind him came Major Stiborek, then Charley Pine.

  'Oh,' she murmured when she got her first good look at the interior. She climbed all the way in, then stood near the open hatch. 'Oh, my!'

  'It's really cool, huh?' Rip said softly, watching the expression on her face.

  'A real… flying… saucer!'

  'They don't make 'em like this anymore,' Rip said expansively, once again running his eyes around the instrument panel. With his hands he caressed the controls, fingered them gently, molded his hands around them.

  'Unbelievable!' Charley said again and stepped over beside him.

  'It's mine, you know,' he said.

  She didn't reply, just stood looking.

  Behind her the colonel and major were touching and feeling. They peered into the equipment bay with flashlights, then stuck their heads in. They weren't paying any attention to Rip or Pine.

  'And I'm going to keep it,' Rip said softly.

  He sat in the pilot's seat listening to the exclamations and startled comments. All three of them crowded into the equipment bay, which had just enough excess room to accommodate them. They quickly figured out what the nuclear reactor was. They were musing about what fuel the ship might use when Colonel West stuck his head out of the equipment bay, glared at Rip, then told him in no uncertain terms to leave.

  Reluctantly, Rip climbed out of the pilot's seat and exited the hatch. The colonel was right behind him, calling for one of the enlisted men to bring a video camera and radiation detector.

  Rip wandered slowly back toward camp. He paused halfway and seated himself in the dirt.

  The saucer looked stark under the lights. Had he done the right thing by uncovering it?

  After a bit, exhaustion overtook him. It had been a long day.

  He struggled to his feet, then went directly to the tent he shared with Dutch and Bill. They were still seated with the professor outside by the lanterns.

  As Rip was getting into his sleeping bag, he overheard the professor ask, 'Just who is that kid, anyway?'

  'He was one of two hundred applicants for this job,' Dutch replied. 'My boss picked his application out of the pile. He could finish his engineering degree in one semester, but I think he's going to stretch it into two.'

  'Most of the time I think he is just what he appears,' Soldi said thoughtfully, 'a kid in blue jeans with a dirty T-shirt. Then there are moments when I think he is brilliant.'

  'Rip works real hard to appear normal,' Dutch said. 'But he's a straight-A engineering student with a genius IQ. And he may be the smartest man I ever met.'

  Inside the tent Rip Cantrell snorted in derision. He pulled a pillow over his head and promptly went to sleep.

  The whop-whop of helicopters awakened him. The sun was well up in a brassy sky when Rip stuck his head through the tent flap. He squinted, looked around unI'll he saw them. Two large machines.

  They circled the area, then went into a hover downwind of the saucer.

  Rip pulled on his jeans, put on his boots.

  Dutch and Bill were fixing breakfast on the propane stove while Soldi smoked his pipe and sipped coffee.

  'Looks like more company, huh?' Rip said.

  'Unexpected, looks to me like,' Bill said, nodding at the Air Force enlisted men, who were watching the choppers with their rifles in their hands.

  Rip hurriedly filled a plate and started forking in fried potatoes and reconstituted eggs. He watched the choppers and ate as quickly as he could.

  'Damn, kid, it makes me sick to see you wolf your food like that.' Bill Taggart made a face.

  'I got a bad feeling about this, Bill. This may be all the food we get for a while.'

  'You've been making every meal your last for twenty years,' Taggart replied and turned his back so he wouldn't have to watch.

  Rip finished eating as the choppers settled onto the ground a hundred yards from the camp. About a dozen armed men got out of each one. Even from this distance, the weapons were unmistakable.

  'What have we got ourselves into, Dutch?' Bill Taggart whispered.

  The men from the helicopters spread out into a ragged line and started this way with their rifles in the
ready position. About fifty yards out they halted and plopped on their bellies.

  The Air Force sergeant tersely ordered his men to lie on the ground.

  When the first bullets whizzed over their heads, Dutch, Bill, and Rip also dove for cover.

  'You chaps in the camp! Drop your weapons and come out with your hands in the air. No one will be hurt if you do as I say.'

  Rip asked Dutch, 'What the hell is that? A British accent?'

  'Aussie, I think.'

  Another burst of automatic fire went over their heads.

  The airmen were having a whispered conference with the sergeant when the major crawled over. He and the sergeant talked while the other enlisted men listened. The major must have slipped over from the saucer while the choppers were circling.

  Now the major stood and called, 'We are a detachment from the United States Air Force. Who are you?'

  Back came the answer: 'I don't care if you are the pope's eldest son, mate. Drop your bloody weapons, stand up with your hands in the air, or we are going to start shooting for real. It's going to be a hot day in this sandbox and I don't feel like screwing around. You've got exactly five seconds.'

  'Do as he says,' the major ordered the airmen. Reluctantly, they tossed down their assault rifles and stood with their hands raised.

  'I'm beginning to think we should have left that damn saucer in the rock,' Dutch announced to whoever might be listening.

  Professor Soldi sat up and brushed the sand from his shirt. He sucked experimentally on his pipe, found it had gone out, and fired it off again.

  The leader of the group that surrounded the camp was a tall, rangy redhead. He plucked the pistol from the holster on Major Stiborek's belt and pocketed it as several of his men picked up assault rifles and frisked the Americans.

  He put his hands on his hips and stood staring at the saucer. 'As I live and breathe. Wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with me own eyes. If that don't beat all! A bloody flying saucer!'

  'This saucer is the property of the United States government,' Major Stiborek said with a straight face.

  'Damn, Major. I don't know exactly where in the hell we are, but I'm pretty sure it ain't the U. S. of A.'