About ten forty-five, Ralston returned from the bedroom
looking as if he hadn't slept at all. "Dartmouth... You
bastard, when did you get here?"
"Nine-thirty," answered Wilson.
"Man... Asher's got a bullet for you!"
"Hey, I got Asher's bullet," stated Brad, pointing
between his legs.
"A twenty-two, no doubt," retorted Ralston. Wilson
laughed loudly until Melanie stirred on the couch. He
attempted to recover his composure so he would not disturb
her. "So, what's your plan now?"
"Who, me?" asked Brad after a pause.
"Yes, you, shithead," snapped Ralston as he prowled the
food bag.
"We wait a while. The alien is still asleep, Asher
said something about deprogramming, and I want a chance to
interview it. We're in no hurry. Besides, Melanie and
Asher are still asleep, too."
"Wrong," responded a figure from across the room.
Wilson stood and stepped away from Brad, as Asher stepped
from the bedroom. "You lied to me."
Brad stood and stepped away from the table. He was
relieved to see that Asher didn't have a gun, but he knew
Asher didn't need one. "I never lied to you; you never
asked if Roger was an alien. I didn't lie to you."
Asher slowly stepped across the room, keeping both eyes
on Brad's every move. "You can say whatever you want, but
as far as I'm concerned you lied."
"Asher," pleaded Brad, "What difference does it make?
You got your money. You even got to kill some people. You
enjoyed that didn't you?"
"You could have gotten me killed with your lies. In my
book you killed Baker. If you are telling the truth, which
I doubt, and Baker did panic, you were suppose to back him
up. You fucked up, Dartmouth." Brad tried to dive to the
side to get away from Asher, but was not quick enough.
Asher grabbed his shirt, spun him against the wall, and
punched him in the stomach.
Brad doubled over and struggled to regain his breath.
For a split second he was free of Asher, bent at the waist,
and looked toward Ralston and Wilson. Neither tried to
intervene. Suddenly, he was jerked upright and found
himself staring at Asher's fist. "Dartmouth, I'm going to
enjoy this." He let his fist fly on a collision course with
Brad's left eye. In a desperate attempt to protect himself,
Brad closed his eyes and twisted to the right. Asher's fist
hit Brad on the temple and knocked him to the floor. Brad
saw a bright flash when he was hit, felt himself falling,
then suddenly, everything went black.
He frantically willed his body to crawl. He heard
voices. He rolled on his back and saw Ralston and Wilson
holding Asher. They were talking... He'd had enough, they
said. Leave him be. Ralston grabbed the front of Brad's
shirt and hauled him to a nearby chair. He found himself
lucid, his head bobbing from side to side. Across from him
was Melanie, curled on the couch, still asleep.
Slowly, Brad regained his senses and walked to the
sink. He soaked a towel in the cold well water, placed it
against the side of his face, but found that it didn't help
much. Before Brad could recover from the blow, he was
startled into reality when Melanie sprung upright and leapt
from the couch. The three men at the table jumped to their
feet as if someone had dropped a bag of scorpions from the
ceiling.
Melanie turned to face the back of the cabin. For a
moment she stared blankly into space, then she turned toward
the others in the kitchen. "He's awake."
Ralston was the first to move, with Brad close behind.
They stepped into the dim room, and found the alien studying
the corner where two of the walls met the ceiling. Wilson
and Asher stepped into the doorway, where they could
observe. Brad stepped forward slowly when the alien looked
in his direction. "Hello... Can you hear me?"
"No, he can't hear you, he doesn't have any ears,"
stated Ralston. "They're telepathic. Remember, Dartmouth?
That's why the girl's here."
"Can you understand me?" asked Brad.
"Yes, it can understand you," interrupted Ralston.
"Telepathy is independent of language because it's the
direct transfer of pictures and concepts from one mind to
the other."
"Ralston!" Brad yelled. "I'm trying to communicate.
Would you shut-up?"
"He's not going to talk. I tried to get him to talk
last night, but he wouldn't acknowledge me."
"He must be in shock, like Asher said. Shock from
being a captive so long then suddenly being free," stated
Brad. "We need to make him realized that he's free...
Roger, I know you can understand me-- you understood me last
night when I told you to follow me to the helicopter.
Remember the helicopter? You're outside the compound now.
We're not with the Air For--"
Brad's words were cut short when he suddenly stopped
moving and talking as if someone had pulled his electrical
plug from the wall. Ralston immediately knew what was
happening. He reached past Brad and snatched the M-16 that
Wilson had been holding, and charged the bolt. He
shouldered the weapon and aimed it at the alien. "Let him
go!" he yelled. The alien looked at Ralston. "I don't
think you can do us both. You're worth as much dead as
alive!"
"--ce. Don't you understand," continued Brad.
"Ralston? Where did you get that gun?" Brad looked at
Asher and Wilson. "What's going on?"
"It's a form of hypnosis: silent and instant. He can
hypnotize you through telepathy. That's why I suggested we
always have two people watching him. I think its one-on-one
because in every recorded abduction, the human subjects have
always been out numbered. Something is wrong here,
Dartmouth. Something is wrong."
Ralston backed away from the alien. "Melanie," called
Brad, "You've got to make contact with it."
"No, Brad."
"Why not?"
"It's like swimming toward a dam: as long as the water
is moving slow, you're safe, but if someone opens the
floodgate, you get washed away. If I opened my mind, all he
would have to do is concentrate to destroy my mind."
"Look, Roger, we are not your enemies. We're your
friends. We rescued you!"
"I didn't ask to be rescued," rang a voice inside
Brad's head. He recoiled two steps and looked at the
others.
"Did you hear that?" Brad asked proudly. "I heard it
talk! I heard a being from another planet talk!"
"Brad, didn't you hear what he said?" called Melanie.
"What?" asked Brad, still too amazed to listen.
"I didn't ask to be rescued," repeated Roger.
"Of course not. I found you. My name is Brad
Dartmouth, I'm a reporter for the Los Angeles Herald. I
found you and rescued you from the Air Force."
"I didn't ask to be rescued," repeated Roger.
"Jesus! I know you didn't ask. We just rescued you."
Roger cocked his large gray head to examine the others
outside. "Why?"
"Why what?" asked Brad in an irritated tone.
"Why did you rescue me when I didn't want to be
rescued?"
"Of course you wanted to be rescued. You just couldn't
ask from inside that military prison."
"I didn't want to be rescued," stated Roger.
Brad turned to face the men outside. "Of all the
fucking aliens in the universe I had to get a retard.
Roger, the Air Force was holding you against your will. You
were a prisoner. I rescued you. Don't you understand?"
"I understand that you rescued me. Perhaps it is you
who do not understand that I did not wish to be rescued."
"Arrgh," yelled Brad pulling at his hair. "True or
False: Your spaceship crashed on Earth in 1949 and you've
been in that compound for forty years."
"False."
"False?" chimed Brad, Ralston, and Melanie. Asher and
Wilson exchanged confused looks.
"False," repeated Roger.
"W-- W-- Wait a minute... If you're not a survivor from
a crashed flying saucer, then who are you?"
"I'm an economist sent here to study how the Earth
economy has evolved since we recommended a shift from metal
based monetary systems."
"Since... Roger, how did you get here?"
"It is obvious you do not understand, as I pointed out
to you a moment ago. I shall explain, but you must agree to
tell me why you rescued me. I believe that shall be a
mutually rewarding exchange." Brad nodded in amazement.
Roger walked into the living room of the cabin,
shielding his eyes from the glare of the midday sun.
Ralston returned the M-16 to Asher, then moved past the
small alien and closed the curtains until the room was dim
enough for Roger to see. Roger moved around the room for
several moments studying the furniture and construction,
occasionally lifting a seat cushion to examine its
underside. He ran his slender fingers across the material
of the drapes and the couch, then against the fabric of his
jumpsuit.
"Several of your years ago, an agreement was reached
with your government to allow my people to study your
culture and history. Part of the agreement allowed for two
of us to live on Earth to gain first hand knowledge of your
thinking. Many of these two member groups have visited your
planet, and returned to help us understand primitive
customs."
"One of the groups included an economist who suggested
the elimination of silver as a economic basis in favor of a
system that be more resilient against extra-terrestial
influence. The reason for this conversion was obvious:
there are planets in the universe where silver is as
plentiful as sand is on Earth. If these people discovered
Earth's preoccupation with what you call precious metals,
they could flood your economy, rob you of goods, and leave
your monetary system in chaos. Now that your system is
based on as arbitrary denomination such as the dollar, a
sudden influx of silver would only devalue that commodity."
"Wait a minute!" yelled Brad. "What in the hell does
this have to do with anything? Just tell me how you got
here."
"I, and my mate, arrived on your planet in what you
would describe as a flying saucer."
"At the government's invitation?"
"Yes."
"To study the economy?"
"I came to study the economy, my mate is a
sociologist."
"In exchange for allowing you to study on Earth, what
is the American government getting?" asked Ralston.
"Your government sends two people to my planet to study
in their fields of expertise."
Brad paced the floor excitedly. "This is great...
It's even bigger than I'd thought! An exchange program has
been going on for half a century, and the government has
covered it up-- they've kept the knowledge they've gained a
secret, and haven't let the people benefit from it."
Roger watched Brad as he moved back and forth across
the room. His large eyes studied Brad with great detail and
curiosity, yet his lack of understanding was evident. "Have
I explained why I did not wish to be rescued to your
satisfaction?" he asked.
"Don't you see, Roger," answered Brad, "It's not that
you didn't want to be rescued, it's that you didn't
understand what was going on. You didn't understand what
our government was doing to its own people. This is what we
call a cover-up. That's why we rescued you: we had to
expose your existence to force the government to make the
program public knowledge."
"You still do not understand," offered Roger as he let
his gaze fall upon the floor. "We do not want the project
to be public knowledge."
"No, Roger... the government doesn't want the public to
know. They believe the less the people know, the easier
they are to control. That's why they've kept contact with
alien beings a secret. They know that if the people knew
about you, or the truth about Kennedy's assassination, then
we'd remove them from power. Our government has been
manipulating the people for too long. Your existence will
rally the American people to their feet!"
"Why is it so important that Americans know about
aliens? How would my existence effect anyone's life?"
"Why is it important?" laughed Brad. "Why is it
important? It's important because the United States
government has no right to keep secrets from its people."
"Not even if we asked them to?" inquired Roger.
"That's ridiculous!" spat Brad, "Why would you do
something stupid like that?"
"If the President announced that the Air Force had made
contact with aliens, people would expect the government to
establish trade. Soon your people would be using devices
that would be hundreds of years beyond anything you had
dealt with before. As you would not understand the devices,
if they stopped functioning, you could not fix them. We,
then, would have to repair them for you. This would cause
humans to be nothing more than mindless machine operators,
unable to react if the machine stopped. My mate says this
situation is known as technology 4slavery5."
"Eventually, after a few generations, your species
would become totally dependent upon technology that it did
not understand. At that point, if we were to demand human
sacrifices in exchange for repair work, your people would be
forced to comply. The knowledge of our existence would have
caused a slide into barbarism rather than a rise to
equality. We have made this mistake before..."
Brad stood totally dumbfounded. "I knew something was
wrong," stated Ralston.
Brad glared angrily at Ralston. "Your theory is based
on the assumption that all species other than your own are
stupid. You're wrong-- that would never happen on Earth."
The alien did not respond.
"Looks like you've fucked-up twice in one day,
Dartmouth," offered Asher.
"Shut-up!"
"I knew something was wrong," repeated Ralston.
"All of you, shut-up!" yelled Brad.
"I am sorry to have cause such trouble," started Roger,
"but I would like to return to the camp now."
"Return?" asked Melanie.
"I would like to return to the camp. Certainly my mate
is concerned for my safety. My body desires nourishment. I
would like to return now."
"Yes sir, Dartmouth, you're really on the ball," jabbed
Asher. "I don't know how I let myself get involved with
you: I knew better, but I figured if I didn't tag along
you'd get somebody killed."
"Asher, shut-up! This is not over with!" shouted Brad.
"Brad... Roger want to go back," said Melanie softly.
"No! This is not over with."
"Brad, he's hungry," pleaded Melanie.
"We've got food," stated Brad, walking toward the
grocery sack. "We've got cookies, potato chips, there's
plenty here to eat."
Asher and Wilson exchanged a worried glance. "Listen,
Dartmouth. I don't think you need a pilot anymore. If
you'll just let me have the key to that airport locker, I'll
be on my way," said Wilson.
"Fine. Here's your damn key!" Wilson accepted the
key, picked-up his bag, and stepped out the door without so
much as a good-bye. "Anyone else want to leave?"
"The alien wants to leave," replied Ralston wondering
if he'd have to overpower Brad. The fact that Brad was only
a foot from his revolver did not concern him as much as
Asher's presence.
"Well that's too bad. The alien stays. Nothing has
changed: there was still a cover-up, there's still going to
be a story. Wheeler's team of reporters will be here in an
hour and it will all be over with."
"Who's Wheeler?" asked Ralston.
"Wheeler's my editor. I called him this morning and
gave him directions. He's asked a group of reporters from
the Las Vegas Sun-Times to meet us here."
"You idiot!" screamed Asher. "You fool! They've
probably got his phone tapped-- you've blown our cover."
"What?" asked Brad innocently.
"When did you call him?"
"Just before I got here. I called him from a pay phone
in Caliente and he conferenced in a friend of his in Vegas
who agreed to meet me here."
"Dartmouth, give me my key," said Asher. "I'm out of
here." Ralston made a step toward Brad.
"No you aren't."
"You asked me to help with a rescue. The rescue is
over; my work is done. Besides, the government's going to
come in here any minute to get their alien back. You've
blown this operation, boy."
"You've got to stay until the reporters arrive."
"Dartmouth, when you gave Wheeler directions, you gave
the directions to the military also. The Air Force knows
who you are, they've been hot on your tail for half a week.
They knew the first thing you'd do was contact your boss.
Now, give me the key, or I'll kill you and take it from your
dead body."
"I'll give you five thousand dollars to fight the Air
Force until the reporters arrive."
"You know he doesn't have any money. Don't listen to
him!" insisted Ralston, as he inched his way closer to Brad.
"Where are you going to get five thousand dollars?"
"Once the story breaks, I'll be rich."
"Asher-- Don't be crazy: you can't hold the Air Force
off. We've got to take the alien back," begged Ralston.
"There's another way," offered Asher, optimistically.
"No, Asher! Think about what Roger said: our economy
couldn't stand the strain of alien trade. If our economy
collapses, our country will fall into turmoil and disorder.
Faith in the American dollar is one of the few things
keeping the United States together. We've got to give the
alien back!"
Asher stared at Ralston and pondered Brad's offer. He
looked at Roger and Melanie standing silently behind him.
There was still time to pull this off... not even Dartmouth
could mess it up. Ralston was the only weak link in the
plan. Asher raised the barrel of his rifle and pointed it
toward Ralston's chest.
"Dartmouth, get the pistol from the kitchen table...
Ralston, I don't give a shit if the Earth's economy fails,
as long as it doesn't do it until after I spend my fifteen
thousand dollars. If you're not going to cooperate, walk
out the door. I'll let you go, as long as you leave now.
If you stay, it means you understand that either Dartmouth
or I will kill you. What's your choice?"
Ralston looked at Melanie and saw the fear in her eyes.
He couldn't leave her to be the only voice of reason. Asher
didn't care about the alien, just his wallet. Dartmouth was
so set on publishing his story, that he was blind to the
trouble he was causing. If Ralston stayed, he, Melanie, and
Roger might yet be able to swing Dartmouth's thinking. If
he left, there was no hope. "I'll stay with the alien,"
answered Ralston. "But you are making the biggest mistake
of your life."
"Probably so," started Asher, "But then it's better
than dying in your sleep."
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