Saucer: Savage Planet

20

After lunch the party adjourned to the East Room, where the assembled American scientists awaited them. More wine, water and soft drinks were served by waiters with trays.

Professor Hans Soldi, the archaeologist who had helped Rip dig the Sahara saucer from the sandstone that entombed it, sought out a biologist from the starship and began questioning her. He wanted to know if the aliens had colonized earth 140,000 years ago when the Sahara saucer was abandoned. She didn’t know.

“Surely,” he said, “your DNA sampling of our population must indicate we are closely related to you?” He didn’t know about the aliens’ DNA sampling or storage activities, but he was making a leap to a rock he thought likely to be there.

The biologist was evasive. If it happened, she said, it happened prior to the records I have access to.

He couldn’t budge her off that position, although he tried.

Then he noticed that there was a hair on her shirt, on her shoulder. When she sipped her drink, he picked it off. Two can play the DNA game, he thought.

Around them conversation swirled. “What is your home planet like?” “How many solar systems have you visited on this voyage?” “Tell me about your civilization.” That was cocktail party chatter, intended to get acquainted, not solicit information.

Still, the Americans wanted all they could get. NASA officials asked questions about the problems of space flight. Anthropologists questioned them about conditions on other planets, creatures they had found, how life had evolved under different gravity, atmospheric chemical composition and radiation levels.

The captain and president mixed and mingled for a bit, then went off to the Oval office for private conversations. Petty Officer Hennessey accompanied them.

In the president’s office, the elected one got down to it. “How can we help you with your problem?”

We would like DNA samples from a fairly representative group of successful earth parents, she said. And we would like to meet and talk with the survivors of the saucer that crashed on earth during an electrical storm in 1947.

“The Roswell saucer?” the president asked, his eyes narrowing.

I believe it is the large saucer parked outside on the lawn.

“The crew was never found. Nor any bodies. How many people were aboard it?”

Six. Three men and three women, all biologists engaged in genetic research.

The president’s eyes registered his surprise. The American public had choked down the fact that Adam Solo had been marooned on earth for thirteen hundred years. Telling them six more aliens had been roaming around unsuspected since 1947 would ignite a political firestorm.

The captain read his thoughts. We need make no announcement, she said. We have already summoned them. They and their families are outside now. All we ask is that you admit them to these grounds and we will meet with them secretly.

The president caught Hennessey’s gaze and said to him, “Ask Egg Cantrell to come in here. Tell O’Reilly to have the Secret Service admit anyone and their family who mentions that he or she was on the Roswell saucer.”

That will be most appreciated, the captain said. I will tell them now.

An hour later the group was gathered. There were five families. One man had not lived to marry and have children, the others said. The women were mothers, and their children were in their fifties and early sixties. One of the surviving men was a father. Between them, they had nine children, who had so far produced eleven grandchildren and two great-grandchildren. Neither the grandchildren nor great-grandchildren were included in the group here today. Only the saucer survivors knew of their origin, and they had never told their children, who with their spouses learned the facts now with mouths agape.

Tears were shed, children hugged parents, and everyone talked at once.

When we were unable to rescue you immediately, the captain said, we hoped you would continue your research into our genetic difficulties, find a mate here on this planet and conceive offspring. That you have done so fulfills our faith in you. I invite you now to return home with us on the starship, bringing your families if you wish, and help us solve our genetic problem. Everyone in the room heard this speech, including Uncle Egg, the president and Hennessey.

More tears flowed. They had indeed continued doing biological research here on earth, and they produced digital thumb drives they handed to the captain. “Certainly you have the capability of reading these files,” one man said.

As for leaving earth, the answer was universally no.

“This is our home,” one woman explained to the starship commander with tears running down her face. “Certainly we faced all the problems of immigrants, learning the language, earning a living, getting an education here that would qualify us for professional positions, but somehow we all did it. We became Americans, citizens of this planet. Some of our children and grandchildren have served in the armed forces, and some have been elected to various government positions. A few have screwed up their lives before finally getting on the right track, and a couple have screwed up beyond redemption. We pay taxes and we vote. We are Americans and we don’t want to leave. Ours is an American story. This is where our families are, this is where we built our lives, and this is where we hope to live the rest of our days.”

Egg Cantrell clapped. Everyone looked at him. He kept clapping, and the survivors, their children and the president joined in.

When the hubbub died, the president had a few words to say. “I must caution you that making your secret public now might be harmful to our diplomatic efforts. While you can undoubtedly sell a book and make some money, you would be creating problems for your children and future generations. I urge you to continue to keep the secret you have so far kept so well. Thank you for coming.”

The captain asked the survivors and their children for DNA samples, permission for which was freely given. O’Reilly was summoned and told what was wanted. After much handshaking and hugs all around for everyone, the survivors and their families were escorted away, to be driven to Bethesda Naval Hospital for DNA testing.

When the room once again contained only the captain, the president, Uncle Egg and Hennessey, the president told Egg of the captain’s request for DNA samples of successful earth parents.

Before Egg could get a word in edgewise, the president went after the starship captain. “We can certainly help you,” he said, “but we want something in return. We want your research into the diseases aging — senescence — causes or enables, things like Alzheimer’s disease, osteoporosis and cataracts. And we want what you know about the causes, prevention and cures for cancer.”

The captain looked around the room, at the three men, at the paintings and decorations, looked out the window at the weak November sunshine. Finally she turned to face them. Biology is not my field; I am a starship commander. I have my orders and diplomatic guidelines that my government expects me to follow. My orders are not to disrupt or interfere with the natural progression of a civilization, nor to take sides in planetary disputes.

Still, I have a certain amount of discretion. We can give you everything you ask for about cancer. Senescence is a much more difficult problem according to the biologists in my crew. In my judgment, giving you thousands of years of research into senescence would revolutionize your society in ways it is probably not prepared to handle. However, I can ask my biologists to look at where your researchers are and suggest lines of inquiry that they believe will be of value to you and not violate the spirit of our orders.

“Mr. Cantrell?” the president said.

Egg already knew precisely what he thought. He spent a few seconds figuring out how to verbalize it, then said, “Too much too soon would turn the lives of the six billion people on this planet upside down. It might also cause hundreds, or thousands, of other species to become extinct, species for which we are moral guardians. Biological diversity is one of the miracles that sustain life on this planet. My advice is to accept her offer.”

“Petty Officer Hennessey?”

“Mr. Cantrell offers wise advice, sir, in my opinion. Accept her offer.”

“Captain, what can we offer you in the way of provisions to continue your journey?”

Water, sir. Recycling water inevitably leads to losses. And I am sure my first officer can go over available protein and vegetable matter and find some items that we can put into the starship’s food supply system.

“I also wish you folks would take these two saucers with you. They contain computers full of information that our civilization is not yet ready to use wisely.”

The captain smiled. Your wisdom is commendable. My superiors ordered me to recover or destroy them, if possible. As it happens, we have no room for them on the starship. I suggest launching them into your star.

The president lowered his head, then nodded.

“I accept your offer,” he told the captain. “Give us what biological assistance you can consistent with your orders, and we will provide the DNA samples you asked for and all the provisions you wish. I am sure Mr. Cantrell can dispose of the saucers.” He eyed Uncle Egg, who nodded.

They left it there.

As Egg left the room, he felt as if a great weight — eternal life in a pill bottle — had been lifted … from his shoulders and the shoulders of all mankind. Thank God, he thought, Harrison Douglas and Johnny Murkowsky were dead and the body of Adam Solo was beyond the reach of other greedy men.

Since they had feasted in early afternoon, dinner for the space voyagers was snacks. Rip and Charley, Uncle Egg and Professor Deehring mingled for a bit, then thanked the president and departed for the Willard Hotel, where Egg had managed to obtain rooms. He had asked for the presidential suite and a penthouse — an extravagance — but if the four of them hoped to sleep in Washington under a roof in real beds and use showers with hot water, that was about it. Of course, Egg could have asked the White House staff for help, but he didn’t want to owe them a favor. Better to pay the American Express bill when it came.

They walked to the Willard through dissipating crowds. None of the people in the streets recognized them, which was a blessing.

Egg signed his name and presented his credit card. The desk clerk certainly knew who they were and called Egg, Rip and Charley by name. Two bellhops almost came to blows over their overnight bags. Rip and Charley got the presidential suite. There was a balcony that overlooked the city, the Washington Monument and the White House. The saucers and starship shuttle were just visible through the trees.

When the bellhop had departed with a tip, Rip locked the door and joined Charley on the balcony. “Uncle Egg said the aliens don’t want the saucers. We are supposed to fuel them and launch them into the sun.”

“It’ll make great television,” Charley said distractedly. Obviously she had something on her mind.

Rip did too. He decided the time was right, so he dived right in. “Will you marry me?” he asked Charley Pine.

She turned and looked at him, surprise written all over her face. “Say that again?”

“You heard me. Will you marry me?”

“You’re proposing?”

“I certainly hope so. I think this is the way it’s done. Will you marry me?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

“Well, I am asking. I don’t know what the future holds, or where our lives will take us, but I want to share life with you. So will you marry me?”

“Yes,” said Charley Pine.

Rip was not slow. He gathered the lady into his arms and kissed her deeply.

When they broke, Charley said, “With one tiny little proviso.”

“Only one?”

“Only one, but I suppose it’s not so tiny. I talked to the captain of the starship this evening. They were hoping to take home some of the Roswell survivors and their families, but they all said no. They have some room on their starship. I volunteered us to go with them.”

Rip stared at her. “Us?”

“Us. You and me. You know that they are having a baby problem on their planet. Genetics and such. They are going to get DNA samples from successful earth parents for research. And I thought, well, heck, Rip and I are going to be parents, so why don’t we go with them and have a huge adventure?”

In the silence that followed, she added, “What do you think?”

“We’ve got to do something with our lives,” Rip admitted.

“Right.”

“But a hundred years? It would be really tough. Even if it’s a luxury hotel — I doubt that it is — and we’re busy as heck, spending a hundred years with just a dozen people? We’ll go crazy or kill them.”

“They made it,” Charley shot back. “If they can do it, we can! And imagine what we’ll learn! Not to mention the extraordinary adventures we’ll have along the way and when the voyage is over.”

That, in a nutshell, Rip reflected, was the life philosophy of Charley Pine. He scrutinized her face. That was the optimistic outlook and determination that had gotten her into tactical military aviation and through test pilot school. It was also, he realized, the philosophy of the millions of immigrants to America through the centuries, immigrants who left everything, endured untold traveling hardships, then started from scratch in a new world.

If he wanted this woman, he was going to have to sign the Pine manifesto. Of course, Rip had already done that once, when he dug the saucer from the Sahara sandstone, fueled it with water and climbed aboard to fly. That adventure worked out rather well, he thought. If he had taken counsel of his fears then, he wouldn’t have gotten to know and fallen in love with Charley Pine.

Almost as if she were reading his thoughts, she said, “Remember the Sahara? We didn’t know how the adventure would turn out, but we both climbed into that saucer and flew it away. And here we are.”

Another thought occurred to Rip. “How do you know we’ll be parents?”

“Rip. Ripper. How do you think women through the ages have known that their man was going to be a father?”

He goggled. Grabbed her arms and stared into her eyes. “You’re pregnant?”

“Yes.” She said it simply, but it was the most powerful word Rip had ever heard.

Joy flooded him. Oh wow, Charley was going to have his baby! Then he remembered the recent adventures with Adam Solo. “How long have you known this?”

“Oh, a while.”

“And you were dancing on top of a saucer over the Grand Canyon?”

“The little Ripper is going to have to take life as it comes. You and I have had to. That’s what life is, Rip! It’s an adventure. It must be lived that way or it is worth nothing.”

He gathered her into his arms and kissed her.

In the penthouse Uncle Egg and Professor Deborah Deehring were having a glass of wine on their balcony. As it happened, their balcony was immediately above the presidential suite balcony, and they heard every word that passed between Rip and Charley.

They slipped inside and closed the door.

“They’re leaving your life, Arthur,” Deborah said.

Uncle Egg merely nodded. He was smiling, and tears were leaking down his cheeks.

“Adam Solo said he would meet us on the other side,” Egg said. “I’ll see Rip and Charley there too. That will have to do.”