Alien Love

ALIEN LOVE

Stan Schatt

Published by Fiction4All (Double Dragon Books imprint) at Smashwords

Copyright 2020 Stan Schatt

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Cover Art by Deron Douglas

www.derondouglas.ca

Prologue

A few students stared at the black limo navigating the narrow campus streets as it headed toward the Physics building. The old man’s lips formed a slight smile that could have been a grimace. Retired astronauts, particularly those who had walked on the Moon, enjoyed plenty of perks. All they had to do is play by the rules. Astronauts’ wives never complained publicly about the danger their husbands faced or the media’s intrusion into their private lives. Astronauts never spoke off the record, revealed top-secret information, or complained about suffocating rules and regulations. Besides a nice pension, they enjoyed the best healthcare in the world.

Maybe that particular perk wasn’t so great after all. A retired technician might succumb to cancer after a few months and die peacefully in his sleep, but a retired astronaut might linger for a year, thanks to drugs costing thousands of dollars. Well, maybe there was a reason God wanted Major Frank Buchanan to stick around a bit longer. While he had been brought up believing that he always should do the right thing, he had gone along to get along for much too many years. His hand brushed against a thick manila folder in his jacket pocket, and he saw that his driver was staring at him.

You sure you’re up for this, boss? The worry lines on the driver’s normally placid face reflected his mounting concern.

I’ll be fine, Jimmy. If I could make it to the Moon and back, I can make it to the fourth floor with the help of a damned elevator.

Few students looked up from their phones to watch as Buchanan slowly climbed out of the limo. Of course, if they’d known who he was, they might have paid more attention. His face had been plastered on cereal boxes as well as on every TV set on the planet. He reached into his pocket for a pain pill and swallowed it without water and then leaned heavily on his cane as he walked slowly into the physics building and found the elevator.

A middle-aged man wearing a tweed jacket responded to the soft knock and motioned for the former astronaut to take a seat at a table surrounded by bookcases overflowing with books on astrophysics. He carefully locked the door before joining his guest.

So, it’s true? They lied all those years and called me every name in the book; I was right after all.

Buchanan’s craggy face broke into a small smile. Yeah, you almost fucked up everything. I’m surprised someone hasn’t taken you out by now.

I was sorry to hear about your...condition.

You ought to be happy. I probably wouldn’t be here if I had months left and not days. It’s hard to believe I’m one of the last rocket jockeys still alive who’ve left this planet and returned in one piece. Maybe I’ve been around too long.

Have you brought any documents with you? I’m particularly interested in those memos from NASA that you mentioned as well as that report analyzing Moon images from the probes.

Buchanan reached into a coat pocket and pulled out a thick folder. If I were you, I’d make copies of this stuff and then hide them where they’ll be safe. I’m not joking when I say people have died for knowing just a fraction of what’s here.

The professor’s hand shook as he took the envelope. He stared at it for a couple of minutes without speaking and then reached for a video camera that was on a bookshelf. You said you wanted me to record what you have to say?

Buchanan nodded. Nobody’s going to believe you no matter how great a reputation you might have. You’ll need a video to prove you didn’t cook up this story on your own. Even with the video, I’m sure NASA is going to say that I was on meds and hallucinating and not in my right mind.

I agree. That’s why I asked you for copies of some of those internal memos as well as some of the photos that showed up missing when I put through my Freedom of Information request.

I’ve given you enough ammunition here to make some of those hotshots shit bricks. Promise me you’ll be careful. You can’t trust anyone. I’m convinced a couple of my buddies are dead because they reached the point where they were fed up and ready to talk.

Professor Aaron Starling pressed the record button on his video camera as the former astronaut began to speak.

It started long before we went into space. I know you’ve heard about the flying saucer that crashed in Roswell, but let me tell you how that led to the formation of a group known as Majestic-12 and how they’ve managed to keep a lid on everything. I’m not proud of the fact that my fellow astronauts and I let them muzzle us. You worry about your family and your reputation when you’re young. I’m too old now to worry about those things. I outlived my only child, and I don’t have much time left myself.

Buchanan felt his strength waning, but he forced himself to go on as long as he could. He popped another pain pill and grunted his appreciation when the professor helped him up. He saw now that he hadn’t noticed that the office’s walls were covered with star charts including a large poster that read WE ARE NOT ALONE. He smiled and nodded before staggering toward the elevator. He knew he’d be sick that night, but he always completed his missions. He saw Jimmy talking on his cell phone. When the driver spotted him, he quickly hung up and headed in his direction to give him a hand.

On the way home Buchanan looked at Jimmy’s taut face. Is everything okay? Did you have a fight with your girlfriend?

Jimmy bit his lip before replying. Nah, I just found out that my landlord’s going to raise my rent.

Can I give you some dough to tide you over? I’m sure the good ole USA isn’t paying you that much to drive an old man to his doctor appointments.

I’ll be okay. It’s been a real honor driving you, sir. I’m not dead yet, Buchanan reminded him. Not yet, the driver muttered to himself.

Chapter 1

The bearded man with his head covered in the traditional manner smiled and waved a greeting as he drew closer to the SEAL team. Jack recognized him and started to relax, but then he saw a dark shadow radiating from the figure and realized what was about to happen. He shouted for his men to move back and began firing his weapon just as the suicide bomber’s belt crammed with explosives blew up. All was quiet then except for the sounds of the dying and wounded until the whining sound of a siren grew louder. Only then did Jack become aware of the sharp pain in his hip and that he lay face down on a dusty street in Afghanistan near the border with Pakistan.

Jack Starling’s broad chest glistened with sweat as he forced himself awake. He shook his head like a dog shaking off water after a swim. The SEAL recruiting poster on the wall reassured him this was his room and not the Valley of Death or even the hospital in Kabul. He slowed his heart rate by meditating until he felt himself gain control, and then he picked up the pad of paper and pen on his nightstand and dutifully recorded the nightmare beside the date. Doctor Wilson always asked for his log before giving him a prescription to refill the pills that occupied a prominent place on his kitchen counter. He ignored the jackhammer in his head and lay face down on the floor.

Jack counted out his one hundred pushups and three hundred sit-ups. He added some clapping pushups until his body finally felt loosened up. The full force of the hot water messaging his scalp while he showered finally eased his headache. He dutifully took his Paxil along with a couple of Aspirin and studied himself in the mirror. He wondered what Mom and Dad thought when they saw him. Definitely not a chip off the old block, that’s for sure. He looked about as much like them as a Rottweiler resembled a Chihuahua. Tony, his SEAL team leader, called him Ivan Drago after the heavily muscled blond Russian boxer in the Rocky IV movie because he knew Jack hated that comparison. Okay, he admitted that he looked like the chiseled actor who played Drago, but he wasn’t a damned Russian. A SEAL shouldn’t have to prove that he’s an American through and through to anyone. After what he went through over there, he didn’t owe civilians anything; in fact, at the very least they owed him a fair shot at a job. He glanced at the suit he’d worn to yesterday’s interview. It now lay lifeless on the floor where he’d stripped it off the minute he came home. How many times do I have to listen to bloodless wimps tell me I’m not quite right for a job or even worse, overqualified because of my leadership experience? He remembered now what that pompous overweight asshole had said while looking over his resume. We don’t need trained killers to manage our Navy contracts.

He hadn’t had much of an appetite in months, so he contented himself with finishing the remaining coffee in the pot and then taking out his lighter and lighting a cigarette. Breakfast of champions, he thought and smiled as his eyes caught the triton image on the lighter. He considered that his good luck charm. How else could anyone explain how he survived the traitor’s attack?

Even though Jack now received a monthly disability check, he spent most of his time job-hunting by knocking on the doors of San Diego contractors who did business with the Navy. Today would be different, though. He put on a fresh shirt and jeans and picked up the scrap of paper containing the address of the coffee shop where Pete Moon wanted to meet him. The bright midmorning sunlight surprised him until he realized that he’d lost several hours because he’d finally fallen back asleep after turning off his alarm. He studied his apartment’s parking lot and looked for suspicious looking passengers seated inside any of the parked cars before stepping away from the door. That’s one lesson Afghanistan had taught him.

The Starbucks off Governor and the 805 was empty except for several student squatters who occupied tables within power cord distance of the few electrical outlets. Apple laptops or iPads and oversized coffee cups competed for space on their small tabletops. He glanced at them and wondered if he had ever looked that young and clueless as a college student.

His eyes passed over a man sitting with his back against a wall, and then they returned and studied him before he decided that must be Pete. The men of SEAL Team Five had been like brothers until the day their world exploded, yet Jack barely recognized the man who looked middle-aged. Although he couldn’t be a day over twenty-five, Moon’s salt and pepper colored hair now displayed far more salt than pepper. The dark circles under his eyes and the way they flitted left to right and back again made him look like a cornered raccoon. He noticed a much darker than usual red glow around his friend as he rose and embraced him. Their hug lasted long enough that some people turned and stared until they self-consciously took their seats.

I feel rotten that I didn’t get over to the hospital to visit you. I really meant to do it, Moon said.

Forget it. You were there when it counted. Is anyone from our unit still over there? Jack shook his head. I heard they even forced Dixon out, and I always figured him for a lifer. I know you’ve got your own problems, but I have to talk to someone. Moon spoke with far more hoarseness than Jack remembered.

He didn’t respond immediately but watched as the small figure wiped the perspiration from his forehead with a frayed handkerchief even though the room’s air conditioning had caused some of the students to don sweaters.

Time is one thing I have plenty of right now since no one wants to hire me.

Give me a break. You came out on top at your father’s college. You’ll find something. I’m hoping with all your smarts, you’ll know what I should do.

What’s all the mystery? You wouldn’t tell me anything over the phone.

Moon stood suddenly and almost overturned his chair. Just a second. I’ll be right back.

He brushed past Jack and hurried out the door. He thrust one hand in his pants pocket and kept it there while he did a slow one hundred- eighty-degree turn and studied everyone he saw. Apparently satisfied, he returned and took his seat.

Are you expecting someone?

No, I’m just making sure we’re alone. Remember how you always warned everyone about Ahmed? You did that eye squinting thing and saw a black cloud around him.

Yeah, I remember. A lot of good that did.

None of us blame you. Look around and tell me if you see anything unusual, one of those bad colors you used to look for when you questioned the ragheads.

Jack surveyed everyone in the room and then shook his head. Everyone’s cool. You were the only one who believed me about the color thing.

Moon shrugged. That’s because you never fingered the wrong guy. What I’m going to tell you sounds like some kind of science fiction movie. I just want you to hear me out. I’m cold sober. I haven’t had a drink in weeks.

Now you’re starting to scare me.

Moon’s jaw tightened. You damned well should be scared. Do you remember Matthews? He left about a year before all the shit hit the fan.

Sure, he always led us with a stick up his ass and insisted on following every rule in the book, but at least you could depend on him to do his job. He would have been okay if he didn’t kiss up to Tony every chance he got.

I ran into him right after the brass ran us out. He knew all about it, but it didn’t bother him none that we wouldn’t turn on you. He offered me a job.

So? That’s good, right?"

I thought so. He worked for a contractor that some government agency hired to do top-secret security work, and I had the clearance. It seemed like pretty easy money for the work, so I took it.

Jack let his breath out slowly. Okay.

Just let me tell it my way even if it takes a while. We were assigned to a unit stationed in New Mexico near the border with Colorado.

Not much there. I’m guessing your job was to keep tourists away from an airbase.

Moon smiled for the first time. That’s what I figured, but it didn’t work out that way. You ever heard of a secret base in New Mexico?

Jack shook his head

What I’m going to tell you is above top-secret. Our government’s been lying to us for over fifty years. It’s working with aliens who are conducting experiments on us.

"Oh come on! I don’t know what you’ve been drinking or snorting, but that’s just bullshit. You’ve seen too many X Files reruns."

Jack started to stand, but Moon grabbed his arm and pulled him back into his seat. His hand shook.

Just hear me out, and then you can decide whether or not to help me. You owe me that.

Jack glanced at his watch and then shrugged. We’ll do it your way. I’ve got an appointment with my shrink in a couple of hours, so I don’t have all day. Let’s hear it.

Moon paused and eyed Jack before continuing. I’m part of this unit, mostly ex-SEALs and Rangers, so I’m feeling pretty good that we can handle anything, you understand?

Sure.

We fly into this small airfield, and everywhere I look I see guards locked and loaded. Our leader takes us to the side of the mountain where there’s a huge elevator big enough to hold a truck. We go down for a long time, so long that I’m thinking maybe it was broken and we are going to crash. Jesus, I’m thinking, this damned thing might never stop. When it finally does stop, we see soldiers wearing uniforms that I don’t recognize. These guys are huge, and they’re built like you except with dark hair and brown eyes.

Jack sighed again. He looked at his watch, but Moon continued his story at the same pace.