Stars Fell on Alabama

by M. Alan Marr

  Chaz looks at the area under the ship and notices very little in terms of downwash onto the water. Whatever is suspending this ship isn’t thrust in the conventional sense.

  Chaz looks Dev in the eyes. “You’re telling the truth.”

  “Yep.” Dev smiles and motions his head toward the ship, “Do you want to see inside?”

  “Are you kidding?” Chaz grins. “Yes, I want to see inside!”

  Dev presses two keys on the iPhone screen, and the ship slowly glides toward them and gracefully comes to a halt.

  Dev looks at Chaz. “Are you ready to beam up?”

  Chaz can barely contain his excitement. He adjusts his stance, stands straight up, and holds perfectly still. Dev presses an icon on his phone, and the boarding ramp lowers unceremoniously.

  Dev starts laughing. “We don’t have transporter beams.”

  “That is so not funny!” Chaz yells as he follows Dev up into the ship.

  Inside, Chaz looks around the stark cargo hold. Dev activates a guarded switch on the control panel at the far end of the bay, and the ramp closes behind them. Chaz follows Dev through the dim passage and up the short spiral stair onto the main control deck, which is in a fairly dark and inert state, as most of the systems are currently being routed through Dev’s iPhone.

  “What do you think?” Dev says.

  “Doesn’t look all that impressive, to be honest,” Chaz replies, somewhat disappointed.

  Dev smirks and then keys a few commands into one of the starboard workstations. All of the computer systems begin coming online. The black glass panels lining the bulkheads power up, displaying various ship’s systems and vehicle status. The center navigation table energizes and generates a holographic image of the area. The forward-most panels populate with flight instrumentation and airborne data.

  Chaz looks around in awe. “Okay, now I’m impressed.”

  The cosmos program that had been running for the past six months in Dev’s condo is alive and well on one of the starboard wall panels. Chaz points to it. “That’s the program you were running at the house.”

  “That’s right,” Dev says, and then points out the key areas. “Navigation holographics table there in the center aisle, pilot stations are forward; shipboard systems, atmospheric support, and propulsion controls are all on the port side. Starboard side handles navigation, detection, communication, and analytics.”

  Chaz looks at the work station displays nearest him and notices the familiar Amex logo. “Is that . . . American Express? Wait a minute, if you’re not from Earth, how did you get an American Express card?”

  “Well, I . . . kind of made it up.”

  “Made it up? How?”

  “I printed the card back there,” Dev says, pointing out the 3D printers in the rear. “Metallics printer, synthetics printer, documents printer.”

  “What about all that money you’ve got? Did you print that as well?”

  Dev shakes his head. “The money is real. The Swiss account is real.”

  “How much is it?” Chaz says, finally asking the question.

  “Almost a billion dollars.”

  “I don’t understand. How does a spaceman open a bank account?”

  “Swiss banks have had secret numbered accounts for as long as there’s been banking. The money is there to assist us. The last Observer to access the account was . . .” He points to Chaz for the answer.

  “Oh, uh, Omar . . . Ingmar . . . Ingo! Ingo Gallant!” Chaz says, making the connection.

  “Exactly right. Ingo was here in 1985. That Swiss account funded his mission and two more before his. Ingo actually brought back that Bronco I was driving. But the original account was established with a sizable deposit of gold. That is the basis of my net worth here.”

  “But how did you just . . .”

  Dev knows where this is going. “The economic systems of this world are all governed by computers now. It doesn’t take much to insert oneself into polite society, particularly when you’ve got a long-established financial history behind you.”

  “History . . .”

  “What?”

  “When we first met and I realized you were . . . wealthy, I Googled your name. The only thing that came up was a reference to 1849.”

  “The San Francisco Gold Rush,” Dev says.

  Chaz is almost surprised at this. “Yeah.”

  “That actually didn’t happen—I mean, the Gold Rush happened, but my family’s involvement in it didn’t. I implanted that story as a point of origin. As for my grandfather, he really did establish the Swiss account in 1925. And, that was near enough to the Gold Rush to be plausible. And back then, they couldn’t really dispute the veracity of his claim. No one on the world was missing a large shipment of gold, so as far as anyone was concerned, it was all his.”

  “How did you do all this?”

  “Well, part of my assignment is to monitor and record the data transmissions from the planet. That’s easiest done while in orbit, which is what I was doing when your space station decided to make an appearance.”

  “What kind of transmissions?”

  “Communications, data, everything.”

  “Communications? What, like phone calls?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Whose phone calls?”

  “Everyone’s,” Dev replies. “I was tracking fifty million cell phone calls when I first arrived. Before I came down, my computers encoded a program establishing me as, what we would call, an Earth resident. The rest is electronic trickery that routed some of the Swiss money to updated bank accounts in London and the US.”

  “I don’t understand,” Chaz says. “How is the distribution of a billion dollars not traceable?”

  “We use something called a quantum data probe. It’s similar to one of your computer viruses, only impossible to detect with your current technology. That’s also how I moved that satellite. If questions are ever asked, or the financial data researched, they’ll think it all originated in the Switzerland. As for my other accounts, they’re all real and funded legitimately.”

  “I just don’t want you to get in trouble.” Chaz frowns. “What about your American Express card?”

  “That, I manufactured.” Dev smiles. “I accessed their system and installed myself as a historically good customer with perfect credit. They think I’ve been on the books for years. That credit card you saw me with was printed right here.”

  “You mean forged.” Chaz frowns again.

  “Technically . . . well, yeah, it was forged,” Dev admits.

  “Oh my God!” Chaz laughs. “When we were in Sydney, you said I got my black card almost as fast as you did. That makes more sense now.”

  Dev laughs. “I was serious!” He adds, “But my bills are all paid in earnest. The rest of the financial program is just some complex sleight of hand so anyone looking would think mine is family wealth handed down through the generations. Even the IRS thinks I’ve been paying taxes for years.”

  Chaz suddenly laughs. “When I asked if you had any trouble immigrating to the US, you said you dropped right in.”

  Dev chuckles at that one. “I did. Literally.” Chaz shakes his head. Dev looks at him with longing eyes. “When we first met and you assumed I was from Canada, I didn’t dissuade you because it seemed like a reasonable cover. I didn’t realize that meeting would lead to something. I was sent here to observe, quietly.”

  Chaz registers confusion.

  “What is it?” Dev says.

  “I was just thinking . . . a billion dollars, the penthouse, the BBJ. I’m not sure I understand why you needed to do all that,” Chaz says. “You’d think you’d want to blend in as an average guy. You went entirely in the other direction.”

  “Okay, first of all, how successful do you think I would be if I showed up here with no money?”

  “That’s a fair point.”

  “Besides, wealth on this world offers me a sort of insulation to the colloquialisms and customs I have no experience
with. All of which can be dismissed as the eccentricities of a man who, as the police officer said, has more money than sense.” Dev sees that Chaz isn’t getting his point. “Besides, I couldn’t just show up here and count on people’s good graces. I had to eat and needed a place to live. I had to be able to travel and observe. That’s the whole point of my being here.”

  “At least now I understand why you stare at the stars all the time. You’re homesick.”

  “Historically, Observers had to rely on more in-person research. Now, with the Internet and twenty-four-hour global news, the job has gotten much easier. The next Observer may not even have to risk coming down to the surface at all. That’s why I gave you access to my bank account. I wanted to make sure you are always taken care of.”

  Chaz looks at the workstation to his right and gasps when he sees the screen still populated with the Thrillions! Lottery System logo and his winning numbers. “What the . . . did you have something to do with my lottery ticket?”

  Dev’s eyes shift left.

  “You did!” Chaz exclaims. “Oh my God, you said it was in the stars I would win—You fixed the lottery!”

  “I wanted to make your life easier. I knew you’d never let me give you any money.”

  “Dev, this is not about money!”

  “But . . . when you won, you said, for the first time, you didn’t have to worry about finances.”

  “Oh, Dev.”

  “I’m sorry,” Dev says with remorse. “I thought it would make you happy.”

  “Do you know who would have won if I hadn’t?”

  “Yes.” Dev sighs. “It was going to be an elderly man in Florida.”

  “I can’t keep it. We have to get that money to him.”

  “We can’t. He died, Chaz.”

  Chaz overreacts. “Oh my God, did you kill him?”

  “Of course not!” Dev declares. “I can’t believe you’d even say that!”

  “Please tell me . . . would that money have made any difference for him? Could he have gotten better medical care before he died?”

  “No. He actually died a few days before the drawing. I did check.”

  “What about his family?”

  Dev enters several commands into the system. The Thrillions! lottery icon centers at the top of the screen, and Chaz’s winning numbers appear below it. A second series of numbers appears and a line linking the real winning ticket to the obituary and history of the dead Floridian. Dev reads over the information. “His wife died in February, 2010. They have no children and no living relatives. He lived in a facility for the aged.”

  “Well, I guess in some way that makes it . . . slightly better. But I’m really not pleased with that decision, Dev.”

  “I’m—” Dev is interrupted by a low, repeating alert on a computer. Dev looks at one of the wall panels behind the starboard stations. The display switches to a detection grid and map. Two targets are plotted originating from a military installation 50.21 miles southwest of their position and on an intercept course to the lake. The next wall panel populates with graphical views of the individual targets.

  Chaz recognizes them immediately and points to the panel with concern. “Hey, those are Apache helicopters—”

  “Armed?”

  “Very well armed.” Just as Chaz says that, the computers identify all the weapons loaded on the helicopters. “Bingo,” Chaz says. As if they even needed to be told, the tracking display adds a large title: THREAT. “What happened? Why now?”

  Dev looks at the security panel running display of data. “A defense satellite detected the x-ray discharge from my weapon. Wow, I didn’t expect that.”

  “Shit, that means NORAD is on to us.”

  Dev reads the tracking information. “Those helicopters will be here in eight minutes.”

  “Can you put this thing back in the lake?”

  “They’ll see the disturbance on the surface. I can’t risk that.”

  “What do we do?”

  “Make a quick exit.” Dev rushes across to the portside stations. “I’m starting the reaction system.” He presses several buttons at the control station and watches the large engine systems display on the wall panels. There is a low hum, which builds as the engine core powers up. Dev pauses and then looks at Chaz. “Want to go for a ride?”

  Chaz grins. “Take me to your leader.” Dev rolls his eyes.

  There is a muffled boom and sudden surge of power inside the ship, and the wall panels seem to come alive, adding a lot more data and graphics.

  “Whoa,” Chaz says, looking around with his eyes, “what was that?”

  “Just the reaction system coming online. That sound you heard was the ignition of a single positron.”

  “One positron did that?”

  “Yep,” Dev replies, while watching the wall panels. “In a few minutes this ship will be producing more energy than every power source on Earth—combined.” Dev initiates the main engine starter generator. A growing sound—almost like jet engines, though not as mechanical sounding or loud—winds up and stabilizes.

  “Those sound like turbines.”

  “Solid state turbines. Rotary wave technology; no moving parts. They compress and ionize ambient gases then channel it all into the engine cores.”

  The start switches for engines one and two illuminate green. Dev presses both buttons. The jet-like sound surges in the downward sense, reminding Chaz of old inertial starters on WWII aircraft. The main engines power up, creating a pleasant but different harmonic inside the ship. The energy displays and engine readouts all indicate increasing power levels.

  “The starter surges energy from the turbines to prime the main engines to bring them up to idle power.”

  Chaz points to one of the glass displays showing a swirling of particles around a round track-like graphic. “What’s all that?”

  “Gravitation system. That display is showing gravitons in the particle accelerator. Once we have enough of them in alignment, we’ll be able to break the gravitational bonds of Earth.”

  “How did it rise up above the lake?”

  “Hovering over a lake isn’t the same as breaking out of an atmosphere.”

  “So we just have to wait? Don’t you guys have rockets or something?”

  “Yes, but those helicopters would see that for sure. We need to slip away quietly before I throttle up the main engines.”

  “Do we have enough time?”

  “If not, those guys will have quite a story back at the O-club.”

  Dev’s cavalier attitude does not help with Chaz’s stress level at this point. While Dev prepares the ship for launch, Chaz watches as the swirling mass of gravitons continue to accelerate around the track and appear to be falling into some kind of synchronization. The readouts on the same system panel, a mix of bar graphs and wavelike lines that seem to be expanding on a widening curve. Power levels seem to be increasing steadily as well, although he doesn’t understand anything he’s looking at. Dev moves across the aisle to the holographics table and inputs some commands to the system. The display imagery of the lake property changes slightly, showing activity from warm-blooded animals and active technology in a sort of synthetic night vision within a ten-mile radius. Individual living targets are marked with azimuth and distance data tags.

  Chaz joins Dev’s side. “What’s all that?”

  “Detection grid,” Dev says as he surveys the area. “I don’t see much activity out there. Small animals . . . two people in a tent five miles away; a herd of . . . something.”

  “Those are deer.”

  Dev continues, “And that Gray Owl that lives in the big tree by the lake.” The computer plots a moving target on a vehicle driving up the country road near the property. “That’s a police car.”

  Chaz registers concern. “What if whoever sent those helicopters called in local law enforcement? That cop could be up here in two minutes!”

  “They do that?”

  “They could.”

  “Th
en we better get going.” Dev starts programming the departure.

  Chaz knows time is of the essence. “Hey, what about the truck? If they find it, they’ll know we were here.”

  “Shit. Pull it in the cargo bay, will you? The panel to lower the ramp is on the portside. You saw me use it. There’s also a cargo restraint system on the same panel. It’s pretty self-explanatory to operate. Secure the truck and meet back up here.”

  “Okay. I’m on it. Don’t leave without me!” Chaz hurries down the stairs and runs down the corridor to the bay. Chaz finds the panel and sees two red hash-marked guarded buttons. The left button has a graphic that looks like a ramp. The other is marked with a thin strip of horizontal lines like a ladder. He flips up the left hash-marked cover and presses the button. The ramp motor engages, and the wide ramp begins to lower. Chaz hurries down and jumps off about a foot before it completes opening. In a fluid motion, he grabs the wine bottle off the ground then runs up the hill in the ever-darkening night to the Range Rover. Chaz tosses the bottle in the back, and even picks up the dropped piece of cheese off the ground before slamming the gate shut. He turns and momentarily stops in his tracks, seeing the large alien ship just hovering there.

  “Whoa—” The ship powers up further, causing the outer coloring of the fuselage to alter slightly in almost a dark slow swirl, prompting Chaz to hurry even faster. He jumps into the driver’s seat, presses the start button, puts the vehicle in gear, and floors the gas pedal, abruptly maneuvering the vehicle down to the lake and toward the boarding ramp. Chaz carefully lines up the Range Rover and switches the suspension knob to off road and hits the gas pedal. The Range Rover’s engine guns, and the truck shoots up the ramp into the ship. Chaz jams on the brakes, kills the engine, and gets out of the truck. He feels a whoosh of air behind him and turns around. From the open ramp, he sees the ship already rising into the air and moving swiftly across the treetops. Being airborne in front of an open hatch is not a great place to be, so Chaz quickly gets to the panel, grabs the vertical handrail, and presses the button to raise the ramp. He watches until the ramp fully closes. The outside noise is blocked as the ramp seals itself, leaving only the internal sounds of the ship. The control panel displays a schematic profile view of the Range Rover, along with four glowing red cargo points below a wireframe graphic of the vehicle. Chaz doesn’t see a cargo restraint switch, only the red glowing graphics. He touches one of the red points, and four magnetic locks engage under the vehicle, turning each point from red to green. The panel displays a tag reading MAG-LOCK. Satisfied he did well, Chaz hurries back to the control deck. He looks around at the walls of glass lining both sides of the ship. Just about every panel has some dynamic something going on. Chaz joins Dev’s side and keeps his eyes on the threat display showing the two helicopters heading toward the lake.