Alien Nightmare, Part II: The Return
by 80sarcades

Welcome back! Have a great day!

Side note: No characters were harmed in the making of this chapter. I think.

Chapter 4: The Investigation, Part II

"...however, we have an idea as to why they were here," General Hammond finished. Hogan, still lost in his thoughts, suddenly looked up.

"What?"

"I said, we think we know why the aliens were here," Hammond repeated. "Let me show you." He led the entourage out of the room before threading them through the darkened hallways once more. Their destination, unlike the bridge, was relatively undamaged. Four spartan beds - their dimensions oversized for humans - occupied the forward section of the room. The rear half of the compartment was divided from its brother by a large sheet of transparent material that stretched across the empty space to a dark frame set in the right corner. A metal door, hanging open on its solid mounts, exposed the interior of yet another small chamber. On reflex Hogan rapped on the 'glass' and was surprised to discover that his knuckle impacts made no sound at all.

Soundproofed? Whatever it is, it's solid.

Two polished cylinders, their tops open, were visible in the rear section. The group followed General Hammond through the room connecting the two halves and into the isolated area. Up close the large tubes were intimidating; a bedlike material within its confines indicated its true purpose. Hogan shivered slightly as the image of a moth in a jar came to his mind.

In this, we're the bugs.

"Medical bay," the host General commented, unaware of the other officer's silent distress. "We figured that out right off. The first team to explore the ship found a woman in each of these tubes. It took us a while to figure how to get them out; the docs say they were in some kind of suspended animation." He paused, then looked over at his fellow officer before shaking his head. "Sounds like something from a Flash Gordon movie but it's true. I saw it myself. One moment they were like statues; the next they were screaming their heads off."

General Hogan raised a eyebrow. "Who are they?" At that, Hammond glanced at his aide. The dark haired man quickly produced a small notebook from his pocket.

"Eleanor and Jacqueline Pearson," the younger officer supplied. "Mother and daughter. They went missing off of a remote stretch of Route 90 in Florida."

"I'm impressed," Hogan said, surprised, as he returned his attention to the alien objects. "You work fast."

"Luck, actually," Hammond replied. "The mother is the wife of an FBI agent," he explained. "They were returning from a church function when they were, for the lack of a better word, kidnapped. It really puzzled the local cops, too. How does a car wrap itself around a tree without a driver? We're still trying to figure that one out." The Brigadier General let out a long breath before he glanced at the forbidding cylinders once more. "We had to sedate the daughter," he softly admitted. "She wouldn't stop screaming. Hysterical. Frankly, I don't blame her. If I was in the same situation...well..."

The General's voice trailed off as all the men in the room soberly considered the nightmare scenario. For two of them, however, the description was frighteningly real enough to envision.

"And the mother?"

"She's okay. Hasn't given us that much to go on," the other man continued. "Mrs. Pearson said that she and her daughter were driving along when there was a bright flash of light. Next thing she knew she was in that tube. Two of the aliens showed up at first followed by a third one. All of them were wearing those pressure suits I told you about." The officer paused, then continued. "She claimed they were conducting some sort of experiment."

"An experiment?" Hogan queried.

"Yeah," Hammond replied. "For what, we don't know." He shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe they didn't want to catch a cold." His dry laugh caught in his throat as Hogan gave him a pensive, almost piercing stare.

Somehow, I doubt that.

The senior General looked around the room. None of the scattered instruments looked overtly intimidating. Oddly, a panel set into the wall intrigued his curious gaze. Despite the alien environment it looked familiar...

Is that a safe?

He pulled on it and was surprised when the smooth metal swung open. The barren interior contained a metallic holder with two circular openings. To his surprise, the rack was firmly secured to the bottom of the safe. A soft foamy material lined the inner walls of the strongbox.

They didn't want anything in here broken, he realized. Why? He glanced at the cylinders again. The ladies were sealed up. Obviously they weren't going to do anything to them physically. Even at that, the aliens were wearing some sort of protective suits.

He looked back at the safe. Obviously, there was something dangerous in there.

But what?

"So what happened next?" he asked.

"According to Mrs. Pearson, there was some sort of collision or explosion before she was knocked out."

"An explosion?" Hogan said, his voice incredulous. "How did she know that?"

"Something slammed her into the wall of the tube," the base commander explained. "She almost thought the aliens did it at first but they were all lying on the floor. She watched two of them get up and stagger for the door. After that, her next memory was of us waking her up." Hammond shook his head. "Frankly, if it wasn't for the fact that we're standing in this...thing..." He waved his hand around the alien environment. "...I'd swear it was some sort of bad Hollywood plot."

"Yeah," General Hogan admitted, unsurprised that someone else would echo his earlier thoughts. "You're right about that." His eyes absently slid up and down the length of the long cylinders. Minus the people, they were just clear tubes. Occupied, they were cages.

Why use them? Another question - an obvious one - suddenly occurred to him.

"How did you get them open, anyway?"

"Like this." Hammond tapped one corner of a dark glass panel set into the metal base of the table. To Hogan's surprise, the black void suddenly flared to life. Golden lights and strange symbols danced across the now-active surface.

"Runs off battery power, we think," the junior General explained. "No buttons. You just touch it and it works. It took a while for the technicians to figure it out. This one," he said, pointing to a circular symbol within a square, "puts the occupant in some kind of stasis. Or in this case brings them out of it. This other one opens the cylinder..."

As Hammond spoke, Hogan's eyes were drawn to one particular glyph - a stylized triangle, its bottom part missing, with a hollow circle hovering above the point - on the right edge of the panel. Without thinking, he reached out and touched the lighted figure...

...before a hissing sound made him jump back along with the other men. A metal arm, holding a small tube, suddenly emerged from a small opening in the cylinder base. After a shocked pause Hammond found his stunned voice.

"Jesus, Rob!" he breathed. "I thought Claire was going to get my insurance for sure. What the hell is that?"

Hogan leaned down to study the tube. "I guess Mrs. Pearson was right..." he mused. The brownish stuff inside the glass - whatever it was - was congealed in the lower half of the container.

It's dangerous, his mind whispered warningly even as his eyes momentarily flicked to the other cylinder. I'll bet anything there's another tube in there, he judged. Two tubes. Two cylinders. Why else would the aliens wear protective suits? He locked his gaze on the foreign substance again.

It sure won't win any prizes at the Mad Scientists convention! That much is for sure. He frowned at the last thought.

But why does it look so familiar?

Oddly, a distant bell rang in the back of Hogan's mind. Whatever it was, the elusive memory was difficult to pin down.

At that moment a cold wave of nausea gripped his body in a hot embrace. Beads of sweat suddenly glistened on his brow as he tried to push the sudden taste of bile back into his gut. Somehow, he managed to compose himself before his eyes gratefully located the exit.

"Let's get out of here," he calmly ordered, rising to his feet.

With that, the officers made their way back to the comforting outlines of the hangar. General Hogan studied the jagged shape of the aft section for a moment while his counterpart spoke to a man wearing a white lab coat.

Why? he plaintively asked the silent craft. Why did you come back?

Why couldn't you have just left things alone?

"You know, I've seen a lot of strange things," a quiet voice commented. Hogan turned his head slightly to see Kinch standing to his left. "But this beats all."

A faint grin quirked the general officer's lips. "This from the man who ran the radio underneath a prison camp. Not to mention getting us that free trip to Paris."

The former enlisted man's eyes sparkled with sudden mirth. "I take my inspiration from officers who start their own Stalag 13 airline and get rid of Crittendon at the same time." He flicked his gaze toward the ship. "Something stinks, General," his humorless voice observed.

"Yeah," the older man breathed. "And for once it's not Klink's violin." His eyes gazed off at the far wall of the hangar as he considered the possibilities. "What's your opinion?"

"I don't think they were scared of us. Humans, I mean," Kinch ventured. "But they were sure worried about something else. You know that first door we passed through to get to those cylinders?"

Hogan nodded.

"Captain Michaels whispered to me that the door had the same kind of controls that were on the cylinder. You know, the ones that lit up?" He made a stabbing motion with his index finger. "That's how they got in. The door looked solid, too. And there were two of them. So if they could seal the rear area off...

"...then why use the cylinders?" the General finished, following the train of thought. "Obviously, they're experienced at kidnapping people. They kept us in a open room when they took us several years ago. Why change tactics?" He breathed a frustrated sigh. "I'd almost say they were testing some sort of weapon. But why? You'd think there would be a whole shipful of aliens, too. Not just three of them."

"That's the part I don't understand," the Captain mumured. "If whatever they're doing is so important then where's their calvary? You think they would have charged in by now. We would've."

"Yeah," Hogan said heavily. "That's what worries me."

"Another thought," the aide pressed. "If the aliens can make people vanish into thin air - either us or those women - then why can't they reverse the process? They could plant a bomb in the White House, for instance. What's to stop them?"

The Major General leveled a somber gaze on his aide as he considered the dismal thought. "You're an evil man, Kinch," he said admiringly. "I didn't think about that. Neither did anyone else. Keep up that good thinking and you'll be a General someday." A wry grin then appeared on Hogan's face. "Besides, you should have suggested the Pentagon. Just think of all the innocent trees you'd save."

Both of the men shared a dark chuckle at that. The Army, as many wags suggested, traveled on its stomach but floated on a sea of paper. Just then General Hammond walked up. Captain Kinchloe reflexively took several steps backward before the base commander opened his mouth to speak.

"Sorry for the delay, sir," he explained. "I told the technicians to take that tube and have the contents analyzed." His gaze then traveled to the alien craft. "You know, the thing might be ugly but it's still impressive," he commented. "Makes you wonder what could tear something like that apart."

"Yeah," Hogan agreed. "Guess we'll never know."

"Actually we might," Hammond said. "I contacted a friend of mine and asked him to send me one of his top guys in accident investigations. Figured it was worth a shot." His eyes then quickly searched the hangar before finding their target; a hand wave sent a man scurrying from a nearby group. "Young kid," the General continued. "First lieutenant. At first I thought it was a joke. However, he knows his stuff."

He watched the young officer approach before he spoke again. "One thing, though," he warned. "He's a bit odd."

Hogan nearly grinned as he image of a certain Sergeant popped into his mind.

I lived with Carter for nearly three years, he thought. Can't get much odder than that!

General Hogan watched the newcomer salute. Although the gesture was crisp, there was something a bit off about his appearance. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

He looks like he'd be more at home in a cheap suit, the Air Force officer decided. Add to that an old raincoat...

"Lieutenant Columbo," General Hammond said. "What have you found out so far?"

"Well, sir, it's the strangest thing," the man began, his voice deceptively casual. "It seems the ship was hit by some kind of object."

"I think we kind of figured that out ourselves, Lieutenant," Hammond's voice said dryly.

"Yes, sir. Of course, sir," Lieutenant Columbo said politely. Hogan was barely able to resist a cheerful smile. "However, we don't think it was an asteroid, sir. We're of the opinion that a rocket hit it."

"A rocket," the General parroted incredulously. "Lieutenant, are you aware of just how crazy that sounds? You've seen the metal on this thing, right?"

"Yes, sir, I have," Columbo acknowledged.

"And you know we have nothing - I repeat, nothing - that could touch it. Correct?"

"That's correct, sir," the Lieutenant said.

"So where did you get the idea that a rocket brought this thing down?"

"From the television, sir."

General Hammond turned away for a moment while muttering something underneath his breath. Hogan was somewhat sure the words sounded like 'court-martial' and 'idiot.'

"One minute, Lieutenant," the senior General said, holding up his hand. "Perhaps if you'd show us what you mean..."

"Of course, sir," Columbo said, gesturing towards his group. "If you'll follow me this way, sirs, I think we can clear this whole thing up."

The Generals and their entourage followed the strange officer to the wall of the hangar. There an array of strange instruments with flashing lights greeted them; a small screen of some sort was set into a large metal cabinet. The Lieutenant looked at one of the nearby men.

"Barney, can you reset the machine?" he casually ordered before he turned to face the assembled men. "We found this device on board the ship," he began, gesturing to a black rod that lay on top of one of the consoles. "Now you've been on the ship, sirs; you know nothing on there is working. However, I was nosing around on that bridge when I found it."

"Why that particular one?" Hogan asked, cutting his eyes back to the console. The object in question seemed ordinary enough.

"Well, it was glowing at the time, sir. Green. Quite odd, if you ask me sir. So I asked some of these smart fellas here if there was something we could do with it." He raised his hand upward and held it in the air while making his speech. Oddly, the gesture reminded the senior General of someone holding a cigarette.

In his case, it's probably a cigar.

"I'll admit it had me stumped, sir," the Lieutenant continued. "At least until I remembered what one of the folks at Lockheed told me a while back."

"And that is..." Hogan prompted.

"Well, they were experimenting with trying to record aircraft conversations," Columbo explained. "To put a wire-to-wire reel recorder in a plane so we can listen to the pilot and copilot in case there was an accident. All highly experimental, sir, but it got me to thinking." He tapped the black rod with a finger. "What if this was their version of a recorder?"

Strangely, the idea made sense to Hogan. "So what did you find out?" he asked, his curiosity now piqued.

"Well, the boys here managed to hook it up to this electronic stuff," the younger man said before he waved his upraised hand at the surrounding equipment. "All beyond me, sir, but they're the real experts in all of this. I just found the thing." He glanced over at the man he had talked to before. "All ready, Barney?"

"We're ready, Lieutenant," the man - a Sergeant, Hogan observed - confirmed.

"Okay, go ahead," the odd officer ordered. The enlisted man flicked several switches upward with an audible metallic snap. The small screen above the toggles flickered to life.

"We can only get pictures out of it, but that's enough," the Lieutenant explained before another switch was thrown. This time a layer of white dots covered the black and white screen.

"What is that?" Hammond asked.

"Stars, sir," Columbo replied. "Next picture, please."

The image changed. This time, a silver blob could be seen in the upper right hand corner of the glass.

"The last picture was taken right before impact, we think," the Lieutenant said. "Go ahead."

A haze of static flickered for a moment before the image sharpened into focus. This time, the strange object was more distinct. The drab figure that presented itself was now elongated and quite familiar to anyone who had seen a V-2 rocket. One side of the missile was lit up by the bright rays of the sun; Hogan's disbelieving eyes made out three shadowed - yet quite visible - letters against the upper fuselage.

"You have to be kidding me..," he murmured.

"No one's going to believe it."

The two Generals, now alone, stared at one another for a moment. Their aides stood nearby out of earshot. The investigators, meanwhile, continued their work.

"Most people will probably believe that flying saucer story if you told them," General Hammond continued. "But a Rebel rocket from eighty years ago? No chance!" He paused to collect his thoughts. "So what now?"

"We don't say anything," General Hogan ordered. "When you make your report just say this ship..." He waved his hand towards the alien craft "...whatever the hell it is collided with an unknown object. Better yet, don't even mention it at all."

"That's lying!" the other officer protested.

"No, you're just omitting the truth," the two-star countered before looking at the ship once more. "We already have enough questions about the aliens without opening that can of worms. Speaking of which..." The senior officer's voice faltered for a moment before quickly recovering its tone of command. "Where's the alien?"

"In the old POW camp nearby," Hammond responded; Hogan, surprised, raised an eyebrow. "It's isolated there. I borrowed several companies from Camp Hackswill to keep it under guard." the first man went on. "Even then I'm not sure anything can contain that thing."

"Why?"

"When we first picked up the creature, it was unconscious," the junior General explained. "All we have here are barracks and assorted buildings. Nothing really suitable to hold it except for the stockade and that's too small. Before we could move it into the camp, though, it tried to escape." Hammond visibly shuddered at the memory. "It took at least a dozen MP's to bring it down. Even then, we got lucky. Someone got in a lucky shot with a rifle butt and knocked it out cold. Hasn't been awake since."

"Let's go take a look at it," Hogan ordered. The other officer blanched.

"General," he began, "I'll be honest with you; I get the willies just going near that damned thing. I'd rather not-"

"I'm already here," General Hogan interrupted quietly, his suddenly cold eyes boring into Hammond's. "And I'd like to see it."

"Yes, sir," the brigadier general said reluctantly. Without another word he signaled for the nearby aides to follow them. As they passed the craft, Kinch spoke up for the first time.

"Excuse me, General Hammond," he said calmly. "I have a question, if I may ask. Sir."

The General turned and speared Kinchloe with an icy stare. Oddly, the gesture nearly caused Hogan to laugh out loud.

Burkhalter could give you lessons in staring down people, Bob!

For his part, Kinch ignored the glare of death. It only served to infuriate the older man all the more before he finally gave in. "What, Captain?" he growled.

"I was just wondering how the ship got here to the hangar, sir," the younger officer inquired as he looked at the strange craft once more. "It seems a bit big to fit on a trailer." Hogan blinked; he hadn't thought to ask that question. And it's a good one.

Which is why I have him around.

Surprisingly, General Hammond also considered the question a valid one. "Two trailers, actually," he brusquely clarified. "And as for how we got it on there, this is how."

He then walked over to the strange craft and wrapped his hands around a cone-like projection that extended outward from the front of the ship. General Hogan watched in stunned fascination as the other man easily lifted that heavy portion of the ship upward before setting it back down on the polished concrete.

"Some kind of anti-gravity system," Hammond explained. "About the only thing on this heap that works. Took only twelve of my guys to lift this onto a couple of modified trailers. Even then, it was tricky." He smilingly narrowed his cutting eyes toward Captain Kinchloe again. "Any more questions?"

"No, sir," the aide quickly answered. Without another word the men walked out of the hangar and to the waiting cars.

Next: Captain K'yrk, POW.

Aircraft recorders (black boxes) were nothing new. The first recorders actually predated the Second World War and would record flight data. A combined voice and data recorder did not see widespread use until the mid-60's.

Columbo was a series of 'you know who did it' murder mystery movies. It paired off the rumpled and simple (police) lieutenant (who appropriately drove a beat-up Peugeot) against someone who thought they would get away with their crime...and (almost) always lost. Peter Falk, who played Columbo, would have been the right age to have been an Army lieutenant in 1947.

I used 'CSA' (Confederate States of America) for the lettering on the rocket because it's recognizable. It would have probably been more appropriate to use 'CS' for Confederate States...if anything would have been used at all. Having Hogan cover it up inside a cover-up was fun, too...

I took a bit of liberty with the television screen. In 1947 television screens would have been around ten inches or so. Wire-to-wire recorders were one of the precursors to magnetic tape; conversations on this medium were recorded on a thin spool of wire. An example of this would be the thread spool on Hogan's Heroes.

If anyone asks (and someone who is confused will), I did not make an indirect joke about 9-11 and the Pentagon. Just wanted to make that clear. That, along with the Towers, was a horrible tragedy. I sometimes imagine the instigators sitting in hell being pummled by an army of grandmas with heavy handbags for all of eternity:-)

Thanks for reading!