Coming around to consciousness was not a pleasant experience.

The dark peace of Kalthara's mind dissipated as the real world asserted its dominance. Flashing red lights surrounded her. Irritating her already sore eyes and causing her pounding head to intensify to the point of making even the simplest thought difficult to conjure. Things were made only the more worse by the pain that shot through her right arm.

Controlling her breathing until the pain subsided was all she could do for the moment. At least until the light from her own console stopped stinging her eyes. When her mind finally managed to focus, Kalthara tried to recall how she had gotten in this situation.

She could recall catching Kolivan as he'd prepared for another of his little excursions, the long trip to the abandoned altean colony, and the discovery they had made there.

Then she remembered the pirates attack. How she'd been hit. How Kolivan had instructed her to retreat.

Kolivan.

Kalthara's eyes shot wide open. A mistake. She immediately felt them burn from the bright lights and shut them again. Attempting to adjust her gaze, she blinked and strained her eyes enough to see her console flashing the damaged warming.

A quick glance around showed that she hadn't been ejected from her ship. And she could still breathe so the life support had not failed. It was a small comfort.

Kalthara tested her limbs and winced at the ache in her arm.

There was no doubt that the bone was fractured. Because that was exactly what she need at the moment. A debilitating injury.

Raising her left arm to her comm she pushed the earpiece and spoke raspily. "Leader… Are you alright?"

Only static answered her.

Releasing the button and trying again she repeated more urgently this time. "Kolivan? Come in!"

More static.

"Brother? Brother, are you harmed! Where ARE you?!"

Static.

"Answer me!"

Pain surged through her body as the strain of her screaming took it's toll.

Kalthara hissed in pain and grabbed at her shoulder in an attempt to dull the ache. Things were not looking good. Injured, stranded, ship too damaged to move. Now her communications were likely down and her navigational equipment shot to hell.

She only knew she wasn't adrift in space because now some kind of gravitational pull was keeping her rooted in her seat but whether or not she was on an asteroid or some planet remained a mystery. At least until she could manage to crawl out of the ship to scout the area.

Things could not be any more dire than this.

Her ears twitched inside her helmet at the sound of something moving around on the hull of her craft.

I stand corrected.

Kalthara found the hilt of her blade and focused in on the sounds location.

Just on the port side of the vessel, the scraping sound of something climbing up the side sent echoes through the cockpit. It stopped just out of the view of the window. Putting the Galra more on edge. From the sounds she could tell whatever it was was clawing at the cockpit.

It was trying to get in.

She drew her knife and held it at the ready.

After a few short knocks on the hull, there was the vague sound of a voice muttering to itself and then the thing slid down the side of the ship.

Releasing a held breath, Kalthara allowed her nerves to calm somewhat. Perhaps whatever it was had decided to give up on the hopeless endeavor and left. It didn't really matter, it was gone now and that was all that was important.

She kept her weapon handy and resolved to wait until the creature was far far away before leaving the craft. Just in case it decided to return.

Unfortunately as she sat there still as a stone, the corners of her mind slowly dimmed. The heaviness of her own body became more and more apparent with each passing moment. As the darkness of unconsciousness took her once more the only thing she could manage to hang on to was the blade in her hand.

Austin cursed to himself as his foot slid on the metal surface.

At least he assumed it was metal. It was cool and hard like steel, but when he placed his hands on it, it felt almost like plastic. Or as close to plastic as a non-plastic material could get.

The craft itself was like nothing he'd ever seen. (Which was saying something.) It was the smoothest looking plane he'd ever seen. Practically a round bean with the only wings being folded back like a flies. The engines weren't obviously visible though there were some rectangular vents in the back that drew his attention.

It looked like something straight out of a science fiction novel. Which he supposed was the whole point. Then again, considering it had fallen out of the sky maybe the garrison's engineers should have spent less time watching star trek.

At least he assumed it was the garrisons.

There wasn't any place else it could be from. Unless the local boy scout group had taken up military grade plane design as an activity. Which wouldn't really surprise Austin any since his last run in with the group had involved a crashed rocket on the roof of his shack.

He gave it back. Eventually.

Finally reaching the cockpit once more, Austin took a moment to catch his breath before focusing in on the cockpits hatch. The fact that it was still closed despite the crash could only mean that the ejection system hadn't deployed and whoever was piloting this contraption was trapped inside. While there was a chance that the impact had killed the pilot instantly, there was an equally good chance that they were still alive in there.

Steeling himself, he jabbed his crowbar into the crack that he assumed opened the cockpit and tried to pry the door open if only by a little. At least enough to get a good look inside and judge the damage. It occurred to him that in the dark he'd need some kind of flashlight if he ever hoped to see anything properly. But considering time was of the essence he doubted he could really afford a second trip to his truck.

By the time he got back the poor bastard might die of their injuries. If they weren't dead already.

But just as the metal started to give way there was a hum, like an old computer made when it was switched on. Austin nearly stumbled backwards and onto the dirt as the glass of the cockpit glowed and vaporized into thin air. Regaining his balance he stared at the now open space where the dark glass once was.

Alright, he took it back. Those garrison engineers should probably watch a ton more Star Trek if this was the result.

Snapping out of his wonder induced thoughts, Austin hurriedly looked into the opening to check on the pilot. He was relieved to find a figure with all its limbs attached sitting in the chair and staring back at him. From the rise and fall of their chest they were clearly alive.

Well at least he didn't have a dead body on his hands. Rejecting the offer Iverson had given him would have been awkward with a death as part of the conversation. It would have felt too much like taking advantage of a tragedy.

Course now the great Commander Iverson owed him big. With such a great debt on his shoulders the crusty old soldier would almost assuredly forget about Austin's little issue. Especially since it wouldn't even matter once he'd rejected the job offer.

Things were looking up.

Of course first he had to make sure the guy in the plane got to a hospital.

The pilot stirred in their chair. Their head lolling from side to side before managing to get their bearings straight and look up at him

"Hey," he called in as he reached into the cockpit. "You finally awake?"

A flicker of silver flashed in the night and dazzled Austin's eyes enough to make him take a step back. An action that proved to be life saving as the sharp knife missed him by centimeters and just grazed his brow. Losing his footing, he fell backward and landed flat on his back onto the dirt.

He lay there stunned until the shadow of a figure crawling out of the hull drew his attention. They focused on him and leapt, leapt, meters into the air, shining dagger drawn and ready for the kill.

Austin rolled out of the way just barely managing to avoid the killing blade as it dug itself into the dirt where his torso used to be. The figure pulled hard to withdraw the weapon before stumbling backwards and falling to the ground. He paused for just a moment, but the stranger took the opportunity to push themselves up just enough swipe at him again.

He scrambled across the ground, limbs flailing as he tried desperately to dodge the strange weapon. Backing all the way against the wall of rocks behind him, Austin watched as his attacker once more tried to push themselves up before falling once more.

Staring at the recumbent figure, Austin tried to steady his haggard breathing. On impulse his hands flew to his neck and instantly checked his pulse.

His heart was beating fast and hard. But it was still beating.

Well at least he wasn't about to literally die from fright.

Austin sat a stared at the crumpled up figure on the dirt in front of him, just waiting for it to move again.

But it didn't

After several long minutes of just sitting and staring at the body of his attacker, Austin crawled over to where his crowbar had landed after it had flung from his hand in the fall. Slowly but surely, he crawled quietly across the ground until he was close enough to poke the figure with the hooked end of the crowbar.

It didn't stir.

He poked them in the back a few times before lightly tapping their helmet. Expecting a response he pulled back, but the body lay still and unmoving on the ground.

"Hey you uh, ya aint dead are ya?"

Cautiously he turned the body over, getting a better look at them.

The flight suit was something else.

Like the ship, it looked like something familiar. Like Latex or some kind of spandex. But up close it looked nothing like any material he'd ever seen. It felt smoother, thicker, and even harder than the sturdiest bulletproof fabric. Even Kevlar had nothing on this.

The dim glowing points and thin lines threw him for a loop though. What was the point of something like that? Was it to make the pilot more easily visible during a test flight? Were there electrical implants to track vital statistics?

It was strange.

But the strangest thing was the mask.

There hadn't been any kind of breathing apparatus attached and Austin couldn't make sense of the way it was attached to the hood. It just seemed to be fused with the material. Then of course the eye holes were just two round circles. Which seemed like a deliberately design flaw if he was being honest.

The peripheral vision would have been completely cut off. Looking through the thing had to be like trying to see through two toilet paper rolls taped to your face.

Lifting the figures arm, Austin let it fall experimentally. Checking for a pulse or any kind of heartbeat was going to be difficult with all the strange contraptions they were wearing. Hell, Austin wasn't even sure what to do anymore now that he'd been attacked by his would be rescuee.

The less chivalrous side of his character suggested just leaving the jerk there and going back home like nothing had ever happened. While the more realistic side reasoned that somebody would find the ship eventually and th, by then, most definitely dead psycho pilot. And in the far corner of Austin's mind, surrounded by cobwebs, was a tiny but persistent voice that kept nagging him to help the person who had just tried to stab him in the face.

Austin sighed as he gave in by hooking his arms under the pilots and dragging them along towards his truck. Whether dead or unconscious they were NOT sitting up front with him.

Just as he finished loading the pilot into his trunk, Austin noticed something shimmering in the moonlight just feet from him. Wandering over he pulled the strange knife out of the dirt.

He'd never seen anything like it. The weapon almost seemed to glow in the dark. It's curve and shape nothing like a military issued knife. Everything about it; it's weight, it's feel, even just the aura it gave off, was otherworldly.

Something, some idea, egged at him from the back of his mind. But Austin ignored it as he stashed the weapon into his jacket before getting behind the wheel.

He could deal with the introspection later.

Right now he had a call to make.

Iverson undid the flask and took a long drink from the contents before wiping his mouth and sitting back in his chair. Closing his eyes, he allowed the warm buzz of the alcohol to wash over him and calm his rattled nerves.

What the hell would he tell his superiors?

The book aside, there was no real hard evidence of Austin taking narcotics. There was the video, sure, but it didn't actually show the man taking the drug. Just the after effects.

While that would certainly be enough to start up an investigation such flimsy evidence would never be admissible in court. But now that Austin was aware of Iverson's suspicions he was bound to stop… right?

He was disturbed to realize that he didn't know.

The Austin Iverson had known in the air force certainly would have abandoned any course of action if it seemed he might be caught and punished. He had limited himself only to what he knew he could get away with. But back then he had had something to lose.

The man Iverson saw in the desert was not the same man he had known all those years ago.

It was too dramatic to call it a complete metamorphosis but the change was still relatively drastic.

He was more haggard and worn looking. Much less muscular than his air force days, though he was still far from lean. And while his friendly and open personality was more or less intact, it was rusty. Smiles were more forced and his conversations less lively.

How much of it was the result of living alone and how much was the drugs, haunted Iverson to no end.

Figuring out his own feelings had always been a struggle for the commander. Largely because how he felt about the things that happened around him mattered so little in the grand scheme of things. He was a soldier. His duty came before anything else. Any private thoughts or feelings needed to be sorted out immediately before they could negatively affect any of his decisions.

Right now how he felt about Austin NEEDED to be sorted out. Their history together didn't matter. The man was a candidate for a highly desired position in the most ambitious military project in hundreds of years.

The positive effects such an opportunity would have on Austin needed to be left out of the equation. Being a flight instructor meant having a serious influence on the people who would be leading the future of the garrison's space exploration program. The last thing they needed was an instructor who experimented with cactus of all things.

He didn't even need to bust Austin on the drug thing. All Iverson had to do was tell his higher ups that the man wasn't worthy of the position. It wouldn't even be that hard to come up with a good argument. He'd drag out the parts of his army record that often went ignored.

The pranks, all the times he'd snuck off base, and the women.

Iverson had never told anyone about the women Austin had snuck onto the base. The man was like a texan casanova. He'd always been naturally attractive to women and known it. If it all came down to it, he could just bring that up to his superiors and have the issue dropped.

But then he had to remember the way Austin had looked out there in that shack. He had to remember talking to that doctor. Hearing the deadpan way he talked about his longtime friend's inevitable demise.

Rubbing his temples, Iverson tried to ignore the traitorous thoughts taking form.

NO, nonono. Focus on your duty Mitch.

His duty.

What even WAS his duty right now?

What his superiors wanted? They only wanted to bring Austin on board for the notoriety. They'd barely skimmed his astrological career.

The law? Sure doing peyote outside of religious practices was still illegal, but he had no solid proof of Austin actually taking the drug.

The future of the garrison? He believed in it but he wasn't sure if rejecting or accepting Austin was what would secure the organization's future.

Austin was a reckless, washed up, has-been. But if Iverson was being perfectly honest with himself he still had yet to meet a pilot who had been half as good as Austin had been in his prime. If he could just clean up his act, then making him an instructor wouldn't be a problem.

Of course there was still a chance that things weren't as bad as he thought.

Maybe the video was incidental? Perhaps Austin had just taken an interest in desert wildlife? Afterall just having the cactus didn't make his former wingman a drug taker.

The phone on the coffee table rang.

Setting down the flask, Iverson picked up the cell with a puzzled look on his face. The number displayed was unregistered on his phone, and yet it seemed familiar to him. On a whim he picked up the call.

"Commander Mitch Iverson, speaking."

There was a hesitant pause before a familiar voice came in over the line. "H-Heyyyy buddy."

"Austin?!" Iverson looked at his phone in bewilderment. "How did you get this number?!"

"The better question is why ya haven't changed yer cellphone number in three years."

"You kept my cellphone number?"

"Not the point. Look, I kinda got a situation over here."

"What do you mean?" He stood up. "What's happened?!"

"Okay so, after we talked I went out to do some stargazing. Everythin was goin great until I spotted this star that wasn't supposed to be there."

Iverson frowned. "Are you calling me because you saw a star?"

"No no, that's not it! It wasn't a star!"

"So… a comet?"

"NO! It was a ship!"

Iverson fell silent, allowing Austin to continue.

"It just flew through the sky and crashed. I went over to check it out. Next thing I know I'm looking at some contraption that looked like it had been wheeled straight out of a science fiction convention."

Sitting down, the commander pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. He couldn't believe what he was listening to.

"So, I check in on the pilot like a good samaritan, right? And guess what happens?!" He paused, clearly expecting a response. When none came he carried on regardless. "The sonnova bitch just up and ATTACKS me! With a knife!"

The commander sighed, "Austin… are you alright?"

"Wha- Of course I'm not alright! I just got attacked by one of your pilots!"

"What do you mean one of my pilots?" Iverson asked dangerously.

The tone flew over Austin's head completely. "I mean one of the garrison's ships just crashed out here and it's pilot attacked me!"

"The garrison is a military school Austin!" His anger was beginning to boil over. To be called in the middle of the night. To be given this nonsense. To have his last bit of faith completely shattered. "A NEW one! We don't HAVE any ships."

There was silence on the other end before Austin's voice hesitantly asked, "C-come again?"

"No planes, Kogane. We haven't even fully stocked the mess hall yet. And the last thing a space exploration program needs are unmanned planes around teenagers."

"So let me get this straight. You guys aren't launching any experimental craft right now?"

"NO! I don't know what kind of drug high yer on right now but-"

"Iverson," Austin cut in. "I'm gonna have to call you back."

The line went dead.

Iverson sat as though he had been turned to stone. His blood ran hot through his veins like lava slithering through the cracks of a volcano. Finally, he burst.

With a roar of anger he hurled the phone across the room, where it bounced off a nearby chair and clattered to the ground. Covering his face in his hands, Iverson tried to suppress the now roaring feelings of betrayal in his heart.

It was his own fault.

He'd allowed himself to be delusional and ignore the straight facts that lay bare before him. Even if it had only been for a brief moment before the phone rang, Iverson had actually been on the verge of thinking that maybe, just maybe, he was wrong about Austin. That perhaps this whole drug fiasco was some kind misunderstanding.

But then the damn phone just HAD to ring and Austin just HAD to give him that bullshit story about a ship. There was no covering up this one. His old partner had always been a jokester, but he'd never been the type to pull shit like this. Not without there being something behind it.

Iverson's mind flew to those words he had read in the book. The ones that burned in his memory now.

That small caption about peyote and it's hallucinogenic effects.

Austin hung up the phone and looked back at the figure he had laid out on his couch.

It had been a struggle just to get the damn fool up the stairs of the porch. He had actually had to pull them up by the legs, wincing every time their head had bumped on a step. He'd lain them down on the sofa, hoping they wouldn't awaken and try to snap his neck or rip out his kidney or something.

Handcuffing them to the furniture's legs had been an idea he'd entertained momentarily before realizing that they'd just lift up the furniture to get away. Besides, he didn't have handcuffs.

And even if they had attacked him, the pilot was still severely injured. Austin was sure he'd felt at least one broken bone in their arm as he'd moved the heavy bastard. Tying up someone who was hurt felt like something a supervillain would do.

All he could really do was pray that they wouldn't try and attack him even without their knife. Or that they wouldn't have the sense to search for the damn thing.

The weapon had been too disturbing to keep his eyes on. The way the metal had curved. It's sharpened edge. The feeling as though it was something that was meant, no, HAD been used.

The damn thing had actually glowed. Illuminating the darkened shack with a disturbing blue light. Wrapping it up in a towel and stashing it under a floorboard had probably been extreme, but just that one action had already set his mind at ease enough for him to call Iverson.

But now he was left with a brand new worry.

Moving as quietly as possible to the unconscious figure on the bed, Austin reached towards the mask that covered their face.

If Iverson had been telling the truth about the garrison then this wasn't one of their pilots. It was someone else. His brain told him it had to be some kind of sci-fi nerd, while his gut reminded him that the world was at a shaky peace at best. Spies were still likely about all over the place gaining intel where they could.

But his instincts were the ones that were blaring like a siren. Telling him that something was wrong. That something out of the ordinary had arrived.

Their face.

He just had to see their face.

Once he saw their face he felt sure his nerves would calm. All he had to see was some kind nerd with zits, or some hulking ugly brute. But even as he thought this his instincts argued against him.

Running his fingers along the rim of the mask, Austin tried to find some kind of slip, some opening to remove it and see it's owner's face. When he failed to find one, he began to allow his fingers to roam the hood in the hopes that there'd be some flap or velcro that would peel the mask away.

It was only when both his hands were on the side of the pilot's face that he managed to find it.

There wasn't a button or a flap or a zipper or anything some contemporary piece of clothing might have. Instead Austin felt something, some strange tingle under his fingertips that flowed through the fabric. The mask glowed a bright flashing blue before dissipating the same way the glass of the ship had done before.

The face that stared back at Austin through the hood looked calm and peaceful. Unconsciousness had taken away any expression of anger or worry leaving behind a look of untouched apathy that only the peacefulness of sleep could bring about.

Austin's gaze lingered on the long dark eyelashes, and the curve of the brow before noticing the white almost artistic markings that were arranged around the eyes and on the forehead. It took him a moment to realize that the lines directly above the eyes were actually eyebrows.

From there his eyes drifted to the snow white hair. Running his thumb over the strands of hair, Austin was surprised to find that it was soft to the touch. A few hairs had come loose and were now draped over the strange face. With his free hand, he brushed the hair out of the way only to feel something twitch under the folds of the hood.

He pulled the hood down and stared at what looked like ears. Furry, purple, twitching ears. Austin touched the tip of only to have it wiggle away from his finger. The pilot winced in their sleep at the touch but failed to awaken.

It was at this point that Austin's mind pulled back and ran over the face in it's entirety. And realized it was purple.

With a yelp he pulled both his hands back, causing the pilot's head to fall back onto the armrest.

Austin scrambled off of the couch and backed away to the far side of the room, his thoughts racing.

An alien. It was the only reasonable explanation. He had an alien in his house.

But was this ET?

Or Independence Day?