Saucer

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.'

'That thing is U.S. government property,' Stiborek insisted.

Rip Cantrell shook his head in amazement. If he didn't know the truth, he would have been tempted to believe the major.

'Well, tell you how it is,' the redhead replied, obviously amused. I'm not going to waste air arguing about legal title. Details like that are way above my pay grade. We came to look that thing over and that's what we're going to do. Now you sit down, shut up, behave yourself, and we'll get along fine.' He glanced around at the other Americans. 'That goes for all of you.'

Red turned to the two men behind him, men in short-sleeve white shirts wearing glasses and nerd buckets — pocket protectors. In their arms were cameras and portable computers. They hadn't taken their eyes off the saucer since Rip first saw them. 'There it is,' Red said. 'Have at it.'

The two scurried forward. They passed Charley Pine and Colonel West, who were being marched back to camp by two of Red's men. Both of the Americans had apparently been relieved of their sidearms. Their holster flaps were open.

'Professor Soldi?' the redheaded man asked, looking at the archaeologist, who was still sitting in the sand with his pipe.

'That's right.'

'Pleased to meet you, sir. My name is Sharkey.' Red reached down and helped the professor to his feet. 'Perhaps you could come with me, sir, and tell me what you have found out about this flying saucer.'

'How did you know my name?'

'We did a bit of research before we choppered over, Professor. Never hurts to know the lay of the land, who's in the neighborhood.'

'The saucer is a valuable archaeological artifact. It belongs to all mankind.'

'Yes, sir. You are absolutely right. My employer is merely interested in examining it, learning as much as possible about the technology. Obviously time is of the essence. The more you tell us, the sooner we will leave. Then you can go on with your research.'

'Don't believe him,' Colonel West interjected.

Soldi looked at West with undisguised antagonism. 'Just what would you like to know, Mr. Sharkey?'

'Everything you can tell me, sir. Believe me, we have no desire to harm the artifact, steal it, or deprive you of your opportunity to study it for the benefit of science. We couldn't transport it out of here even if we wanted to. We merely wish to learn if there is technology here that we can put to immediate commercial use.'

'Who is your employer?'

'I would be indiscreet to name him here and now. Suffice it to say he is a curious industrialist. If his use of technology that we learn about here is illegal, of course the courts will haul him up short.'

Soldi knocked out his pipe and refilled it. He lit it and took a few puffs as he looked at the civilians with rifles guarding the Air Force officers and enlisted. He glanced at Rip and Dutch, looked again at the saucer.

'Why not?' Soldi said. 'Everything will come out in a few days anyway.'

'Professor, I apologize for my confrontational manner when I first arrived,' Colonel West said earnestly. 'still, this is not a time for bruised egos or hurt feelings. This matter affects the national security of our country.'

'Hardly, Colonel,' Soldi shot back. 'As I explained to you when you first arrived, that saucer is an archaeological treasure belonging to all mankind. It is quite ancient, at least a hundred and thirty thousand years old. Everything we learn about it will be made public as soon as possible. Every human alive is entitled to the benefits of the, technology embodied in that saucer.'

'You don't know what you are saying,' the colonel protested. 'Civilization is not ready for that kind of knowledge.'

'That's what the pope told Galileo three and a half centuries ago,' Soldi snarled. 'Poppycock!'

'Colonel, you are on the losing end of this philosophical disagreement,' Sharkey said lightly. 'Come, Professor.'

The Aussie put his arm around Soldi's shoulders and gently steered the archaeologist toward the saucer.

The day grew hot. It was funny, but when he was working, surveying, running the jackhammer or moving the camp, Rip didn't notice the heat. Now, sitting in the shade with nothing to do, he found the desert heat oppressive. It enveloped him, made it difficult to breathe, and he perspired freely.

So did everyone else sitting there under the watchful eyes of the Aussie's friends. Those worthies didn't look like they had seen a bath or clean clothes in quite a while, but their weapons looked well cared for. Russian-made assault rifles, British army web gear, automatic pistols… they were ready to fight a minor war. Fortunately they didn't point the weapons at anyone. The rifles stayed on their shoulders or across their laps, the pistols stayed in their holsters.

Still, they stayed alert. A bit of moving around by the Americans seemed to be tolerated, but two or more people moving brought a curt admonishment.

'Think the prof is telling Sharkey all the secrets?' Rip asked Haagen.

'He doesn't know any to tell.'

'He shouldn't have gone off as pals with that guy.' 'That Aussie was going to look at the saucer with or without the prof. Maybe with Soldi there he won't tear up anything.'

'You are an incurable optimist,' Bill Taggart told Haagen.

'Don't you start grousing again,' Haagen shot back. 'I'm not in the mood. And another thing… '

Leaving those two to squabble, Rip moved over to where Charley Pine was sitting. 'Hot day, huh?'

Pine looked him over, didn't say anything. After a bit, Rip asked, 'What did you think of the saucer?'

'I don't know what to think. I've been sitting here trying to decide.'

'It's really old,' Rip offered. 'Yes,' she murmured.

'Did you see anything wrong with it?' Rip asked softly. 'What do you mean?'

'Well, we were wondering why it came to end up in that sandstone ledge. Maybe there was a malfunction of some kind. What do you think?'

'It's possible. We didn't have time to do more than give it a superficial look last night.'

'I'm sort of curious about what you experts found,' Rip said. 'How does that thing work, anyway?'

'All I could give you are guesses.'

'The thing doesn't have wheels on the landing gear. It must take off vertically.'

Charley Pine looked thoughtful. 'I'd love to fly it someday,' she said.

'You could figure out what all those levers and things actually do?'

'That would be the easy part,' Charley Pine replied. 'It's strange, when you think about it, how vastly different cultures arrive at very nearly the same answers to engineering problems. The controls have to give the pilot control. How the systems work, how it's powered, what the controls operate — it will take weeks or months of investigation to answer those questions.'

'Ever flown a saucer before?' Rip asked matter-of-factly.

Charley smiled. 'No.'

'Have you flown many different kinds of planes?'

'Most of the tactical machines in the Air Force inventory and a half dozen helicopters.'

'Bet being a test pilot takes a lot of education, huh?'

'It's a specialized field. I have a masters in aero engineering too. That's why Mike is so testy at times.' A faint smile crossed her lips.

'I've had a few aero courses myself,' Rip said.

Charley merely nodded and brushed a loose hair from her forehead.

Rip gestured toward the saucer. 'Flying that thing couldn't be too hard,' he suggested.

Charley cocked her head, looked at the saucer as if weighing his comments. 'Shouldn't be all that difficult,' she agreed, 'if all the systems were in working order and we had the manual to study. Everything isn't working, of course. Not a chance in a million.'

'You're serious? You could fly that thing?' 'No. I couldn't. Not unless we have a crew of Martians check it out, repair it, service it, and sign it off as ready to fly. And I would need to read the manual; I don't fly anything without reading the book.' 'Bummer.'

'That's one of the really big rules.' 'That's cool,' Rip said. 'Only two small caveats. I like that.'

Rip tried to envision what it would be like going Warp 7 in the saucer with the controls in your hand.

'The major there,' he said after a bit, I'll bet he's a pretty good pilot.'

'He designs planes, he doesn't fly them,' Charley Pine said, a bit vinegary Rip thought.

He grinned at her. She managed a small grin in return.

'So why did you get out of the Air Force, anyway?'

'My being in uniform was driving Mike crazy.'

'Umm

'It was time… time to move on. I've landed a job with Lockheed Martin that starts in six months. The Air Force asked me to stay with the UFO team until they can order in someone else.'

'I see.'

'Sorry to bore you. My life is a mess.'

'So exactly what does a UFO investigation team do?'

'Learn all we can. Write reports. Debunk the myths.'

'Are there UFOs?'

'That's classified,' Charley Pine said curtly.

'Government's been doing UFO stuff for fifty years or so, hasn't it?'

'About that, I guess.'

'Seems like they could tell us something, after all that time.'

'If the authorities chose, perhaps they could.'

'Must be a lot of flying saucers to justify spending all that money.'

'There certainly are a lot of people who think they've seen one,' the test pilot admitted.

'Have you guys got any other flying saucers lying around? Out there in Nevada or somewhere else?'

Another tiny smile crossed Pine's face. 'Not to my knowledge. Of course, if we did and I told you, I'd have to kill you.'

Rip smiled easily. 'Maybe we oughta call you Charley Manson.'

'Just kidding, of course.'

'You're sorta cute,' Rip told her. 'For an older woman.'

Charley Pine rubbed at the dirt and sweat mixture on her forehead. Sitting in the desert in front of a flying saucer with an amorous kid! She looked at the Aussie's troops with their big flop hats and their rifles and gritted her teeth.