Collision

by John Williamson

  “You’ve seen the intelligence report on the UFO sighting, so what do you think Professor?” said Daniels.

  “What do you want to know, Ms Daniels?”

  Daniels put a series of three photos on the Professor’s desk.

  “I want to know if it’s truly extra-terrestrial. Was it really there? And where is it now?”

  “Okay. Let’s look at the evidence you sent me. Something substantial collided with the American’s Aurora craft at an altitude that no existing aircraft can achieve. The video images you sent me look like those of many other UFO sightings reported over the years; but most of those sightings were bogus. This, however, is clearly not bogus.”

  “Is it extra-terrestrial? In my view … probably not. It’s not that I don’t believe that there is extra-terrestrial life out there. There are some 200-400 billion stars in the Milky Way, and there are at least 125 billion other galaxies in the universe. It beggars believe that none of those stars have planets that have developed intelligent life. That would mean that Earth would have to be unique among the billions and billions of possible suitable planets. However, why if they could, would they want to come here? The technology and economics of travelling such vast distances to a place that is one in billions seems to me quite remote. My money is therefore not on the little green men. I think it originated from this planet.”

  “Was it really here? I guess so, the pilot of Aurora, would not disagree with that statement. The tests you carried out at the landing site would indicate that a vehicle of significant mass landed there. It also suggests that heat was not a factor in its propulsion system. There were no traces of sand siliconised by heat. There was no radioactivity other than normal background radiation in your report.”

  “Where is it now? That’s a difficult question. The evidence you gave me suggests that it was first seen in the US. It came across the Atlantic and landed here. After that it disappeared again. What can we deduce from this? Well, firstly, I would suggest it is probably terrestrial in origin. If it had come from deep space, we would have picked up some trace of it before it came here. Secondly, it would seem to be able to move trans-dimensionally; that is, to move in and out of normal space-time. That as you might guess is a radically different technology to anything we recognise today; but someone may well be prototyping that technology without our knowledge.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Think about it. What were the most important breakthroughs in transport technology? The nineteenth century was the age of steam and trains; the twentieth century was the age of oil — the petrol engine, jet engines. We’ve improved the efficiency of our engines, but there has been no major new technology breakthrough for some considerable time. Sooner or later oil is going to run out. Whoever comes up with the replacement technology will make a fortune. If you were rich and had billions to spend on development wouldn’t a project like that be very attractive?”

  “So we should be looking for a scientific organisation based in the US?”

  “Possibly. It might even be back in the USA by now.”

  “Tell me Professor, could there be any organisations in Europe that could be working on this type of technology?”

  “Possibly, but much of the scientific research in Europe is collective and is not secretive. Take CERN, for example, a huge collective project supported by many European and now non-European countries.”

  “I was thinking more along the lines of private investment.”

  “I’m sure there are players, but aerospace?”

  “What about Mr Brannan?”

  “He sponsors some small programs at the university here, and I’m one of ten trustees who oversee his Foundation Trust. I’ve met him; but I really don’t know much about him at all. He’s a man who is paranoid about protecting his privacy.”

  “But he has the financial clout to do it.”

  “I don’t know. I’m a scientist, not his investment banker.”

  “So you think it is someone else?”

  “I don’t know. It might still be extra-terrestrial; but I would suggest you keep an open mind until you have some hard evidence that corroborates it.”

  “Thank you Professor. You’ve given me something to think about… One last thing professor, have you seen this student before?” said Daniels, placing he picture of the cat woman on the table.

  She watched his eyes as he looked at the picture. He looked at the picture for less than a second before he passed the picture back to her.

  “Sorry, I don’t know her,” he said.

  “Are you sure, Professor?”

  He looked again at the photograph.

  “I don’t know every student on the campus. But she’s not familiar to me.”

  “Thank you, Professor,” said Daniels. There was little point in further questions.

  As they walked back to the car, Daniels turned to Carla.

  “He’s lying,” said Daniels, “about the photograph.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Experience… Body language. He didn’t even comment on the unusual nature of the photograph. We need to get access to the student records.”

  Carla looked at her. “I’ll have access by tomorrow.”

  “I also want to talk to Brannan?”

  “That’s going to be more difficult, but I’ll do what I can.”

  “Just fix it.”

  The Major watched the frigate get closer to him, as his helicopter headed towards it. The frigate was about ten miles off the entrance to the estuary and winds were buffeting the helicopter. As it came in to land, the Major watched the deck hands as they signalled it down. Once down, he was the first to emerge from the helicopter. A young sandy-haired Midshipman in his early twenties stood waiting for him.

  “Sir, could you come to the Bridge, we might have something of interest for you.”

  He had been waiting all day for this: the first possible lead on the UFO search. He knew the frigate had been circling for hours in search of any possible evidence that the craft may have ended up in the sea.

  He followed the Midshipman through the narrow corridors and stairs of the frigate until he reached the Bridge. He glanced out of the Bridge to see where they were: but could only see the sea.

  “Major, we brought you here to see this,” said Captain Falstaff. “We have a sonar contact with something on the sea bed; it’s a large mass probably metal.”

  The Major had met the Captain earlier in the day and had been impressed by his professionalism. He was a natural sailor who had spent most of his adult life at sea, and it showed in his weathered face.

  “Could it be an existing wreck?”

  “Not a known wreck; and certainly not one on the charts. Too small to be a ship of any size.”

  “Can we get some divers down there to take a look?”

  “Not an option; it’s too deep. We need to use the submersible. We call it the ‘Sardine can’. Do you want to go with team, Major?”

  “There’s nothing much for me to do up here. I may as well take a look myself. How quickly can we get going?”

  “We’ve been prepped and ready to go; Midshipman Peters will take you down.”

  Ten minutes later, the Major climbed into the twenty-foot submersible. The vessel had two large bulbous transparent domes at its front accommodating the pilot and co-pilot, and a further dome behind where he would sit. It had two wing-like fins holding heavy-duty lights and cameras, and two robot arms. As he buckled in to his sear, he realised why they called it the ‘Sardine Can’: there was not much room, and the seats weren’t designed to take the frame of the Major’s six foot three broad muscular body.

  He sat in silence as the pilot and co-pilot ran through their checks. Then he heard the sound of the engines start to whine, and the valves open, as the vessel started to dive. He had been on submarines on many occasions, but had never had such a clear view of the ocean before. The vessel started to dive into the depths of the sea.

  The vesse
l’s strong lights picked out a shoal of small fish as they flashed by them. Then the lights caught something large and white just seconds before it hit them. Whatever the white object was, it crashed into them and rocked them sideways with the impact. The Major watched the pilot struggling to regain control of the vessel as it yawed sideways out of control. A piercing alarm bell signalled that something was seriously wrong with the vessel. The pilot fought the controls and soon the vessel began to steady.

  “Shit what was that?” said the Major. “Are we all right?”

  The pilot silenced the alarm and turned to the Major.

  “Great white shark,” said the pilot. “You won’t see one any closer than that... The pressure is holding. We should be all right. But we don’t want to do that again in a hurry.”

  “It’s moving away,” said the co-pilot, watching the sonar. “We should be all right now. It’s quite rare to see them this far north.”

  The Major nodded, but felt uncomfortable. The shark must have been at least 20 feet long — as big as the Sardine Can itself.

  “How much further?” said the Major.

  “We should be there soon,” said the pilot.

  They were continuing down into the darkness. How were they going to find this craft in this degree of visibility? Then he noticed the sonar on the pilot’s dashboard. He must be navigating entirely on instruments.

  It was almost fifteen minutes before they were down to a thousand feet. At this depth, even with the submarine’s powerful light, visibility was extremely poor. The pilot and co-pilot were following the sonar tracking their target. The large mass was only a hundred metres away, and they were closing in on it. The Major strained his eyes to see what he could in the murky waters. Was he going to find this strange craft that had trashed the Aurora or not?

  As they got closer to the mass, he could make out that it was circular and uniform: a flat saucer-like shape about twenty foot in diameter. So this is it.

  “Get as close as you can,” said the Major. “Can we retrieve it?”

  “Not without special gear.”

  “Then get as close as you can.”

  The Sardine Can nosed towards the shape. Something was wrong: there were too many barnacles and marine life attached to the object. They couldn’t have formed in a matter of days. As the pilot steered around the vehicle, the co-pilot trained the high-intensity lights onto the object. The Major caught sight of something.

  “Stop there,” he said. “Move the lights back a few feet.”

  The Major could make out some words written on the craft in block capitals. He read them out, “MarineTech Diving Bell. What is that?”

  The pilot let out a sigh, “It’s a diving bell used by deep-sea divers on the oil rigs. It must have lost its mooring and drifted here.”

  “Shit,” said the Major. It wasn’t the UFO he was searching for. He was certain the answer lay in these waters; but nothing. All this effort for nothing. The assignment was beginning to irritate him.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Ben got back to the flat just after 7:00 p.m.

  “Anyone home?” called Ben.

  “Only me,” said a voice coming from Elle’s bedroom.

  Ben knocked on the door.

  “Come in,” said Elle.

  Ben opened the door. Elle was still in her T-shirt and briefs and was sat on the bed with papers strewn across the bed and floor.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you weren’t dressed,” said Ben.

  Elle looked down at herself looking confused. “I must have forgotten to get dressed today.”

  “Shall I leave?”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “I just wanted to give you this,” he said, passing her a card. “It’s a visitor’s pass for the university library. It will give you access to everything you need for your research. You can also access the resources on-line.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate it… Come over here I want to show you something.”

  He walked over to her and sat next to her on the side of the bed. She pointed to an equation on a sheet of paper.

  “This is what I have reduced these field equations to. It’s an improvement on what I had before.”

  “Yes, that’s better. Have you thought of simplifying this bit,” he said, pointing to one of the equation’s factors.

  “I’ve tried to, but I keep on ending up going around in circles.”

  “Have you been doing this all day?” said Ben.

  “Only since you gave me that file. What time is it?” she said, looking at the bedside clock. “Oh, it’s seven — all day then.”

  “This tachyon thing has got you really hooked, hasn’t it?” he said.

  “I’ve been working on this for weeks,” she said. “But I could really do with some help.”

  “You know there’s absolutely no real evidence that tachyons exist. You might be trying to prove the impossible,” said Ben.

  “If you had the evidence that they exist, would you have given up on your research?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “But I know they exist. I just don’t know how to measure them,” said Elle. “Don’t you want to help? This is your research. Don’t you want to see it through?”

  Ben paused to think.

  “I’ll think about it.”

  She smiled at him.

  “Better get ready for the party now,” said Ben. “Oh, if you want to take a shower, I’ve fixed the lock on the bathroom door.”

  Half an hour later, Elle, Ben and Jane were enjoying a glass of wine. Elle was beginning to relax.

  The doorbell rang. Ben opened the door and in walked a diminutive man, with pebble glasses and a fuzz ball of red hair in a hairstyle reminiscent of a rock star from the 1970s, carrying a laptop.

  “Hi Rick,” said Jane. “Come on over and meet our new flatmate, Elle.”

  “Hi,” he said sitting down next to her. “Have we met before? I feel I know you.”

  Elle shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

  “Oh, that must be the oldest chat-up line I’ve ever heard,” said Jane.

  “But, but …” said Richard

  “What’s with the laptop?” said Ben, pointing to Richard’s laptop. “This is supposed to be a party.”

  “I know,” said Richard, “but I just had to show you guys this. You know that UFO in the news.”

  “Kind of… I saw it up close on the beach,” said Ben.

  “What?” said Richard.

  “Yeah, it flew over the top of me and landed, or crashed, further down the beach. But when I got there it had gone.”

  “Did you see anything else,” said Elle as she looked at Ben.

  “Not really, except all hell broke loose when I got back to the car park: the military were everywhere… I got jumped by a load of troops and taken to some military base. I was there all day while they ran some medical tests to check if I had been contaminated by that thing. It wasn’t much fun.”

  “You really did have a bad day,” said Elle.

  Ben just smiled at her.

  “You said there was radiation,” said Jane. “Pop into the Medical Centre tomorrow and I’ll check you out. I’m not sure I trust the MOD to do it properly.”

  “It’s all bullshit,” said Richard. He fired up his laptop. “It’s all part of the cover story,” he said as he tapped on the keys. “Was the craft anything like this?” They waited for the video to load. Seconds later the video started playing. It showed the night view from the cockpit of an aircraft. Suddenly, something came towards the screen and collided with the aircraft.

  Elle stared at the screen mesmerised.

  “Where did you get this video?” said Ben.

  “Don’t ask,” said Richard, “but it’s as authentic as it gets. That was the collision between a US military aircraft and a UFO. Now these are the stills taken from slowing down the video.” A series of stills came up on the screen showing snap shots of the process towa
rds collision. Each snap shot showed the craft getting bigger on the screen as it came closer to impact. “Was that what you saw?” said Richard.

  Elle looked into Ben’s eyes.

  “I don’t know,” said Ben. “Maybe, it was quite dark.”

  “Weren’t you scared?” said Jane.

  “No,” said Ben, as though it was a challenge to his masculinity. “I just thought someone might need help. It didn’t look like it was going to land: it was wobbling about and I thought it was going to crash.”

  “Wait for it guys. This is the most interesting shot put on the Internet,” said Richard, pressing down the return key. The picture was a poor quality image, but looked unmistakably like a silhouette of a naked cat woman.

  “Isn’t she gorgeous?” said Richard. “The guy who took the picture claims that this cat woman came out of the space craft.”

  “But you can’t see anything,” said Elle.

  “It’s sure no alien grey,” said Richard. “It’s got long legs and boobs.”

  “You mean it’s female,” said Jane.

  “Why this male fixation with female breasts?” said Elle.

  Jane looked at Elle as though they were dealing with two juvenile boys. “If no one has warned you already, Richard is part of the fully paid-up nut brigade. He has his own website on UFOs and alien abduction — GreyZone or something like that — and has every freak in the country reading his daily UFO blog.”

  “That’s not fair,” said Richard.

  “It’s probably a fake anyway. One of those made-up photos,” said Jane.

  “What about this picture?” he said, trying to change the subject. Another image came on the screen of the craft flying over the university.

  “It’s just more of the same,” said Ben. “What’s different about it?”

  “Only about six years. This was shot six years ago when we had the last sighting almost over the top of the university. See it’s the same craft.”