Saucer: Savage Planet (16 page)

“Charley!” Egg said sharply.

“When you go gallivanting to kidnap and murder people, you gotta expect to find a few potholes in the road,” she replied.

The saucer was now pointing straight at the Beaver circling off the beach. It was about a thousand feet above the water and turning from right to left. Charley adjusted her course as the saucer rocketing toward the Beaver accelerated though Mach 2. The two craft came together almost too quickly for the human eye to follow; then the saucer was by.

Without turning for a look, Charley raised the nose and turned the rockets full on. The nose rose until the saucer was climbing straight up into the dark northern sky on a pillar of fire.

*   *   *

The wash of the saucer hit the Beaver like a punch from God. Only the craftsmanship of the de Havilland engineers who designed her—and a whole lot of luck—kept the bird from losing her wings under the hammer blow. The pilot fought to control his steed even though the instruments vibrated so badly that he couldn’t read them. Just as he realized the bird was responding to his control inputs, the radial engine quit. Dead. A vast silence engulfed the pilot and Johnny Murk and Harrison Douglas.

It was broken by the muted roar of a jet engine. An F-16 was coming in slow, with the gear down, apparently to look them over.

The pilot ignored the fighter. He was pushing levers and pulling knobs and flipping switches and resetting circuit breakers, trying to get the engine to crank. It wouldn’t.

The pharma moguls could hear the whisper of air passing the fuselage.

“It can’t end like this,” Douglas cried. “Oh, God, no!”

Johnny Murk was holding on to the back of the seat in front of him so hard that his knuckles turned white. He rested his head on his hands and closed his eyes.

Down the Beaver came, with a stationary prop. The pilot abandoned his efforts to start the engine and concentrated on finding a place to land. Open water along the beach. He turned hard, got set up, slipped to lose some excess altitude, then straightened her out and flared onto the water. The floats kissed and the bird drifted to a stop.

Another jet went over a few hundred feet above them.

“Now what?” Johnny Murk belligerently demanded of the pilot, who was in no mood to be abused.

“Well, fuck you, asshole,” that craftsman said. “I guess I’ll tinker with the motor while you clean out your underwear.”

“I’ll have your job—”

“Oh, fuck you again. And shut up. If you don’t behave yourself, I’ll throw you in the water and you can swim home. Maybe next spring we’ll find you entombed in a big ice cube.”

11

When the saucer was in orbit and the earth was slowly spinning beneath, Adam Solo came forward and donned a headset. He said nothing aloud.

After a bit he took off the headset and said to his comrades, “I’ve talked to the other saucer again. It will leave orbit in about three hours and create a diversion.”

“What kind of diversion?” Charley asked suspiciously. “Gonna kill a few folks to keep the rest honest?”

“Certainly not. Let not your heart be troubled. Now, let’s put our heads together and see if we can come up with a plan to avoid capture until the starship arrives.”

Egg was still strapped into his seat. He rubbed his face vigorously. When he finished, Solo said, “I appreciate the risks you are taking on my behalf. I could have merely zoomed off in a saucer and you could have stayed in Missouri, watching the adventure on television. It’s me they want, not you.”

Egg said nothing.

“Oh, I know,” Solo continued, looking at Egg. “You thought about that and rejected it. Too dangerous for Rip and Charley. You didn’t even think about yourself. You three are good shipmates. I hope I am your friend.”

“I hope so too,” Egg replied. “Okay, does anyone have any ideas?”

*   *   *

Meanwhile, in Canada, a stick of paratroops dropped onto the beach near the rocky promontory where four armed thugs huddled. They surrendered instantly, without a shot being fired. The pilot of the Beaver drifting off the beach set Johnny Murk and Harrison Douglas rowing. He put them on the floats and gave them paddles. After much effort, they beached the dead Beaver. They too instantly surrendered to the waiting paratroopers, who were laughing at them.

Then the assembled contingent waited for helicopters from the States to arrive to pick them up. The whole crowd went into the cave and soon had the fire blazing brightly. While the captain in charge of the soldiers inspected the Viking ship in the cave, Johnny Murk and Harrison Douglas conferred in low tones.

“We’re not beat yet. That Solo thinks he got us, but you and I know that this is just one battle. We’re going to win the war.”

“Amen to that,” Harrison Douglas said. He remembered how he felt when he thought the gunmen would capture Solo in mere minutes. Filthy rich. He and Murk would own this damn planet. And everyone on it.

They made their plans.

*   *   *

“A saucer is coming out of orbit, Mr. President.” An air force colonel from the command center delivered the news to the president the next morning while he huddled with his national security team.

“Where will it come down?”

“First indications are the trajectory will bring it into the Washington area in about an hour.”

“Is this the saucer that just left Hudson’s Bay?”

“No, sir. It’s the one that has been up there for several weeks.”

The president, O’Reilly, the secretary of state, the national security adviser, and five of O’Reilly’s aides stared with open mouths at the colonel.

The president recovered first. He made a shooing motion at the officer as he said, “Keep me advised.”

When the door was again closed, hubbub broke loose. “Here? Washington? What could this mean?”

“Is this an attack?”

“Are aliens arriving?”

“They’ll probably demand our surrender.”

“Maybe they just want to negotiate for Adam Solo, establish friendly relations, get some fresh food.”

“And lay some of the local dollies, perhaps? You’re a moron.”

“If they land on the lawn outside, will you go out and meet them?” This from O’Reilly, directed at the president.

The president’s eyebrows rose dramatically as he pondered the implications.

Here. Washington. Oh, man! This might be it!

It!

The Arrival!

Aliens from another solar system. Maybe from another galaxy.

He surveyed the people around the table, all educated apparatchiks without enough common sense to pour piss out of a boot, even if the directions on the heel said, “Turn up.”

“Where’s Petty Officer Hennessey?” he asked the nearest aide. “Find him.”

The aide obviously didn’t recognize the name. “Hennessey?”

“He’s in the honor guard. Go.”

*   *   *

The president and Petty Officer Hennessey were standing on the South Portico of the White House as the incoming saucer raced across the heartland. The cabinet and leaders of Congress, hastily summoned, and the top brass from the Pentagon all stood behind them. Aides scurried up to the president to keep him and Hennessey updated. It was over Iowa. Over Indiana. Over West Virginia. Well below 100,000 feet. Slowing. Trajectory seemed to be aimed right at the heart of Washington. The FAA was rerouting airliners away from Dulles and Reagan National airports. F-16s were overhead, just in case the president wanted the saucer destroyed.

“What do you think of just shooting the damn thing down?” the president asked the sailor standing beside him.

“Might work, sir, if there was only one of them,” Hennessey opined. “Kinda doubt that, though. Then it’s got a nuclear reactor, or so I heard. A crash might be messy.”

“Yeah.”

The president could see the television cameras being set up on the edge of the lawn, just in case. No doubt they would be beaming live to every television network on earth if the saucer landed here.

The president felt hot and used a hanky to wipe his brow. Some of his makeup came off, but he didn’t care. The aliens wouldn’t give a damn either.

Hennessey looked calm, cool and collected.

“Where you from?” the president asked the sailor.

“Oklahoma, sir. Joined the navy to see the world, and I did see a little of it, then they sent me here to Washington, which ain’t what it’s cracked up to be.”

“No, I guess not,” the president agreed and shot his cuffs.

The tension was building nicely, and the president was acutely aware that he had to pee when the saucer came into view flying over the Potomac River. It turned and came over the top of the Washington Monument aiming right at the president and Petty Officer Hennessey.

“This is it, I think,” Hennessey said. Then he remembered and added, “Sir.”

The president realized something was wrong when the saucer came over the White House fence and didn’t continue to descend. It leveled off about a hundred feet in the air and flew toward the White House, slowing. About a hundred yards in front of the president, about where
Marine One
always landed, the saucer came to a stop. It was still a hundred feet up there. Stopped dead.

The president and everyone else on the portico and the gathered press and billions of people all over the planet watching on television held their breath.

Nothing happened. It just sat there, stationary, a black, ominous, silent flying saucer.

After a while one of the officers in the honor guard walked toward the saucer. When he hit the repulsion zone under the thing he felt it and quickly retreated. The saucer and the earth were repelling each other; anything that entered the zone of repulsion would be instantly crushed.

After a bit the people behind the president became restless. “Well, hell, what’s it gonna do?”

The president conferred with Petty Officer Hennessey. “What do you think?”

“Darn, sir, I kinda think it’s parked up there.”

“What do you think they’re doing in that thing?”

“I’m wonderin’ if there’s anybody in there a’tall. Maybe a helicopter could hover and take a peek through the canopy and tell us.”

That, the president thought, was good advice. He acted on it quickly, and within minutes a chopper from Homeland Security made its approach to the saucer, which didn’t move an inch.

The chopper hovered, then flew all the way around the thing at a distance of about twenty feet, and the answer came back. “It’s empty.”

The crowd bled away. The television crews stayed longer, but eventually they made an agreement among themselves. One camera would remain aimed at the saucer and the feed would be shared by all the networks.

The saucer was still there, steady as the Rock of Gibraltar, when the sun set, so lights were rigged.

In the White House all the options were considered, and one by one rejected. The hatch was in the bottom of the ship, so with the antigravity system on, entry there was impossible.

A helicopter could deposit a crew with blowtorches on the top and they could try to cut their way inside. If they got in, then what?

Shooting down the saucer was considered. The idea was a nonstarter, for the very reason that Hennessey had articulated. If it were shot down it would fall close by, perhaps hit the White House, and the thing was nuclear powered. If the reactor were breached all of Washington would have to be evacuated. The cleanup could cost billions. If the mess could be cleaned up. If not, Washington might become a wasteland for thousands of years. Tens of thousands.

Hmmm.

The president conferred one last time with Petty Officer Hennessey before he went to bed. As he looked out his bedroom window at the saucer parked in the sky, he asked the Oklahoma sailor, “What do you think?”

“Somebody put it up there, sir. I reckon it’s gonna stay there until somebody takes it down or flies it away. Probably that Solo fella, I figure.”

The president nodded. “You going to be on duty tomorrow, Hennessey?”

“Actually, sir, tomorrow’s my day off.”

“Liberty is canceled until further notice. See you in the morning.”

“Yes, sir.” Hennessey snapped to attention, did an about-face and marched out.

*   *   *

It was twilight in Western Australia when the saucer’s crew saw the little crossroads village. Two dirt roads crossing in the desert made a giant X. Around the crossroads Rip counted seven buildings. A telephone line ran east-west through the village.

They landed a mile away, along the deserted road. Rip dropped out and went over to examine the nearest telephone pole. He paused behind the saucer to relieve himself, then climbed back inside.

“I think it’s just telephone. Push the pole over and I might be able to cut that wire.” From his gear he extracted a souvenir Viking sword.

He climbed out and waited.

Solo maneuvered the saucer against the pole and pushed gently. As the line came in reach, Rip gave it a mighty whack. Hmm. Two more mighty whacks, and the line broke.

He climbed back inside. “Better go around the town and do it over there too.”

Solo avoided the village by at least a mile, staying about a hundred feet above the ground. Rip got the wire with two whacks this time.

They parked the saucer on the edge of the village, got out and closed the hatch. It was almost dark, but two medium-sized boys were standing in front of the nearest building, a house perhaps, and gawking. A dog must have been tied out back, because they could hear him baying at the top of lungs.

“Say, lads,” Rip called, “is your mom or dad home?”

They turned and fled. A moment later, a woman in pants came out on the porch with a flashlight, which she put in their eyes. “And who might you be?” Her voice quavered a little. The dog kept on barking.

Egg made a sign to Rip and stepped forward, towing Charley along. “Ma’am, my name is Egg Cantrell, and this is Miss Charlotte Pine. We dropped in to see if we could get something to eat and drink. Be glad to pay you, of course, in American dollars.”

“Oh, my Lor … You’re that saucer crowd that’s all over the telly that everyone’s looking for. Why on earth are you
here
?”