Alien Nightmare, Part II: The Return
by 80sarcades
Welcome back! My apologies for the long x 10 months delay. I offer no excuses for my tardiness other than it was procrastination run amok.
A big THANK YOU to all the fine individuals who have reviewed the story thus far. Much appreciated as always!
To recap: The aliens have returned to find out humanity's biggest secret. Due to a bit of misfortune the intruders are shot down and the surviving alien is enjoying the touristy delights (i.e. none) of the Roswell Army Airfield in Roswell, New Mexico. General Hogan and his aide, Captain Kinchloe, were sent by Washington to investigate the crash and the alien race they encountered in the original Alien Nightmare. In this chapter, Hogan and Kinch visit the abandoned POW camp and its special prisoner. Just for fun I'll give a shout out in the final chapter to whomever spots the two subtle references to other series I planted in the text.
The former Prisoner of War camp lay just beyond the end of the main airfield. Hogan and Kinch traded a significant look as they entered the depressingly desolate facility. Unbeknownst to one another, each had the same thought:
And we complained about Stalag 13?
The neatly arrayed camp, surrounded by barbed wire and guard towers, stood starkly against the arid green landscape. The deserted wooden buildings, some with their paint stripped by the wind, were little different from the usual standard Army barracks the two men knew. For that matter there was little to no evidence that German Prisoners of War once occupied the structures. Still, the sight was enough to give General Hogan pause.
For three years I lived in barracks like those, he quietly thought. Maybe worse. Every winter the wind would whistle in through the cracks no matter what we did. Say what you will about Klink - and I can say a lot - but he did try to make conditions better for us. Especially at the end.
Unfortunately, everything was going to hell at that point. That was the bad part about being the Senior Prisoner of War: you could only do so much for the men. You were dependent on the Krauts for almost everything. Even for the lousy 'I can't believe it's a blanket' they tried to pass off as a real one.
To be honest, I never really thought about ending up in a POW camp. Who really does? Even then, life was a daily challenge. Some days I'd wonder what it was like just to be warm. Most times I'd worry about everyone. That didn't count the lousy food, dealing with Klink and Hochstetter or the missions some chairwarmer in London would assign to us.
You know what though? Given the chance I'd do it all over again.
The only occupied structure in the camp - apart from the guard towers and a small command post situated near the main gate - was a rectangular-shaped building in the middle of the compound. The General wondered for a moment what it had been in its former life.
Some kind of recreation hall? He shrugged. I guess it really doesn't matter. At that moment a smile popped onto his face as another thought popped into memory. Hochstetter would probably have loved this place! he mused wryly. With all the soldiers, jeeps and guns around the place really is ringed by steel!
"Looks like you've got everything covered," Hogan observed as the car slowed for yet another checkpoint.
"I hope so," General Hammond replied. "I'm really not looking forward to moving that thing when the time comes." A rueful smile then passed over his calm face. "At least the eggheads are happy," he commented before the vehicle arrived at their destination. The enlisted driver was about to open the doors for his high-ranking passengers before Hogan waved him off. Despite the heat, neither man made a move to get out of the stifling staff car.
"They recovered some items from the ship that have to be seen to be believed," the base commander continued. "You know they actually found a raygun in all that mess?"
The former POW stared at the other man incredulously. "You're joking," he blurted. Hammond shook his head.
"An actual honest-to-goodness Flash Gordon raygun. At first they didn't know what the hell it was. Looked like a rod with a grip on one end. Almost like a magic wand." He held up his hands to show how long the object was. "Fortunately, the guy who figured out how to fire it somehow managed not to blow himself or anyone else away," General Hammond continued. "As it was, he literally vaporized several walls before he finally managed to turn the damned thing off."
"I guess that's what you'd call a successful test," Hogan joked. At that, both men chuckled.
"The scientists were ecstatic. You'd almost think they were kids on a playground," the General said scornfully. "Some of those guys have been driving me nuts. The alien, for example."
"Oh?"
"Yeah," Hammond continued. "The scientists treat that thing as one big Christmas present. They keep forgetting how strong he is. Or that he nearly got away from us." He looked at Hogan squarely. "You know what set it off?" He shook his head slightly. "A chocolate bar."
The General stared at his counterpart with disbelieving eyes. "A chocolate bar?" he repeated, his voice doubtful. Oddly, the harmless words tickled something familiar in his brain. For the moment he put the curious feeling aside. "You're kidding, right?"
"I wish I was," the other General admitted, his dark laughter echoing against the nearby glass. "You have to admire the irony, though. The creature - or whatever you call him - is surrounded by troops with Thompson submachine guns. So what happens? One of the lab rats decided that would be the perfect time to take a snack break. The alien saw the bar and went berserk. Like I said, it was hard enough to put that damn thing down."
Hogan shook his head in disbelief. "What else did you find?"
"You'll have to see it for yourself," Hammond said before tipping his head toward the building. "Shall we, sir?"
The other officer merely nodded before he got out of the car. A hot, almost painfully dry wind brushed past the exposed skin of the two officers before they and their aides stepped through the front door of an air-conditioned environment. Along the way, salutes were exchanged. General Hogan grinned cheerfully at the suddenly nervous junior officers and enlisted men.
Nothing like a pair of Generals to liven up things, isn't it?
Their destination, flanked by a pair of armed sentries, was quickly opened up for their arrival. Inside, three men in white coats - presumably scientists - were clustered in one corner of the plain wooden room. A network of tables containing various unidentified items ran around the perimeter of the area. Not surprisingly, one of the flat surfaces contained a full laboratory kit complete with a microscope and various instruments. Colored liquids, heated by the golden flames of a bunsen burner, danced gleefully within various glass tubes.
Why not? Hogan decided. Now all you need is Frankenstein and his mad scientist! Too bad it's not stormy and dark outside. A slight frown crept across his face as his eyes washed over the alien objects. Forget it, he silently retracted. Things are already creepy enough...
Just then a balding man detached himself from the nearby group and walked towards the new arrivals. Reflexively, the General eyed the visitor as he approached. This guy looks more like a rolling doughnut than a crazy scientist! he amusedly observed. I guess their union has lower standards now. At that moment Hammond turned to Hogan.
"This is Peter Driscoll, the project leader," he said. "He's been heading up the investigation on the flying saucer. Mr. Driscoll, this is General Hogan.
"Pleasure to meet you, General," the scientist said nasally even as he limply shook Hogan's outstretched hand. "You've already seen the ship."
"Yes, we have," Hammond replied.
"Wonderful technology! Wonderful!" the man gushed in a high-pitched voice. "We've only just begun to scratch the surface of what these aliens can do. For instance..." He led the group over to one of the nearby tables and picked up what appeared to be a flat mirror. The scientist laid it in the palm of his hand before holding it up before the assembled officers.
"Watch this," Peter said, a grin curling his lips even as his finger touched the mirrored surface. Hogan's eyes widened as a three-dimensional green lizard figure popped into existence above the polished disc.
"A projection," Driscoll explained unnecessarily. "I have no clue as to how or why." With another gesture he deactivated the image. "Like everything else, these aliens are quite the mystery. Did you see the autopsy reports, General?"
"I did," Hammond confirmed before he turned to his fellow peer. "We did autopsies on the other two aliens," he explained. "The docs doing it had a hell of a time getting inside; the hide on the thing is tougher than it looks. Add to that a highly developed musculature and what looks like dual organs..." A sour frown appeared on his lined face. "I sure wouldn't want to go up against them," he finished. "Not without some heavy artillery."
General Hogan merely nodded in reply before he switched his gaze to the scientist. "What else did you find?" his soft voice murmured.
"Odds and ends, mostly," Peter replied. He gestured at the table once more. "A raygun-"
"I heard about that," Hogan's tense voice suddenly snapped. "And?"
The scientist paused for a moment before raising an eyebrow. "Um...well, mostly a bunch of odds and ends," he said haltingly. His pasty hands swept across a nest of grey colored objects. "Tools of some type. Medical equipment. Even this." The scientist picked up a rectangular-shaped object from a nearby table before passing it to the visiting General. Hogan studied the strange item for a moment.
What the hell is this?
"It seems to be some sort of amusement device." Driscoll's thin finger pushed a protruding stud on the top edge of the alien item. To Hogan's surprise, the drab grey surface suddenly flickered to life. Colored icons with odd markings beneath them - some sort of alien language? A description? the General wondered - hovered tantalizingly beneath the flat glass. "Those are icons for games, we think," Driscoll explained. "We haven't had much luck in figuring them out."
"Interesting," the senior officer nodded, his mind already on other possibilities. Machines were one of them. One of them, the Navy's MARK II, had impressed him; the enormous contraption calculated large numbers with ease.
Maybe this is the logical progression, he decided as he looked at the alien device. The ultimate result of computing evolution many times over. And, sad to say, much more advanced than anything we have. Or might ever have. He frowned as he considered the sober thought. All we can hope is that the aliens have a flaw of some sort. Or... A faint smile graced his lips. What was it that woman - Grace Hopper - said? They found a bug in one of the computing relays so they 'debugged' the system.
Maybe the aliens will have a permanent bug of their own...
"...it also plays music, if you can call it that," Driscoll's droll voice droned, jolting him back to reality. "If you'll touch the icon in the upper right-hand corner...
Hogan complied and was rewarded by a high-pitched screech that caused all of the surrounding men to cringe. The General quickly stabbed the button again with his index finger and sighed in relief as silence blissfully returned to the large room.
"One thing's for sure: the aliens have lousy taste in music," the two-star commented dryly. "Too bad they never heard of the Andrews Sisters..." A chorus of chuckles rippled through the small group even as he flipped the device over. The silvery surface was unmarked save for a circular symbol set into the middle of the panel. Oddly, the circle had a crescent shape cut into the circle.
Must be some sort of logo. Hogan handed the device back to Driscoll. "Interesting," he noted. "Anything else?"
"We have more examples in the next room," the scientist stuttered. "With the alien. The military..." Peter's eyes nervously flicked to Hammond's shoulders "...wanted to question the visitor when it woke up. There's a crystal ball in there - a sphere in a silver holder - and some other objects..."
"...that we wanted answers to," General Hammond finished. "We were hoping we'd get some questions answered about why the aliens were here, what these things are..." He shrugged. "Not that I expect anything. Course, I didn't expect the aliens to be psychics either. Did you know the CIG wants in on this?"
"Not surprising," Hogan groaned. Somehow, he kept his eyes from rolling upward. "They're intelligence. Loosely speaking. What's their angle?"
"They're convinced that the aliens are the vanguard of an invasion force," the base commander said. "Plus they're interested in the crystal ball. They think our visitors have psychic powers. Read minds and all that crap."
"Nice to know my tax dollars are at work," the senior General joked. "I wonder who dreamed that up?" He looked back at Driscoll again. "How long will it take to figure everything out?"
"I'm not sure..." the man almost whined, his hands twisting nervously. For some reason the gesture reminded the former prisoner of Kommandant Klink. "It'll take us a while before we figure it all out. But we will," Peter said, his voice turning surprisingly firm. "All we need is time."
"Time," the officer repeated dully before shaking his head. An image of the shining cylinders popped into his mind. It'd take years to figure out everything. If we ever did. And what if we can't?
What if the CIG is right? Maybe the aliens are about to invade. He pursed his lips in thought. No, I don't think so, he finally judged. Why now? They have space guns, fancy objects and God only knows what else. There would be no stopping them. So why do they need to keep kidnapping people?
Something else is going on here.
Instead, Hogan walked the length of the tables and eyed the inanimate objects. What were they used for? he wondered. To examine? Investigate? Heal?
To kill?
His eyes traced across the crowded expanse until they stopped at one particular item. Like the others, it was innocent in design. Simple in its simplicity. And yet...
Hogan cut his eyes to the other members of the room. General Hammond was talking to the head scientist. The aides were conferring in whispers. And the other white jackets...
I wonder if they even noticed if we were here?
Casually, as he turned for the door, his hand passed over the table and palmed the item in one smooth motion. A moment later the object sat in his right trouser pocket. A mixture of guilt and satisfaction swept through his soul for a brief moment.
I wonder if that's how Newkirk feels? he wondered, thinking of his favorite Englishman. God, I miss him. Especially now. He could always make me smile... The pleasant thought lingered as he walked over to the other officers.
"I guess it's time to see our visitor," he casually announced. Despite his best efforts he was unable to keep a note of trepidation out of his voice before they proceeded out of the room.
The group walked down a bare hallway and past more armed personnel before they reached a unmarked and guarded door. The enlisted man standing there kept his face neutral at the sight of the traveling brass even as he opened the door. As they stepped into the room, Hammond's lips flashed a macabre grin towards his peer.
"Welcome to the freak show," he lamely joked, his dry chuckle almost stuttering out of his nervous mouth. The two-star barely noticed as his eyes scanned the new surroundings.
Inside the room six soldiers - all armed with Thompson submachine guns and gun belts - ringed the nearly barren room and its boarded up windows. A small table, its surface arrayed with a crystal globe and other small objects, sat against the right wall. And in the center of the chamber...
Hogan and Kinch each paused and took a deep breath. There, strapped securely to a table, was the reptilian creature from their nightmares. The gold uniform it wore was torn and damaged in spots. Even at that, the overall image of the ferocious green alien was terrifyingly intimidating. General Hammond misinterpreted their reaction.
"I had the same reaction when I first saw him," he softly remarked to his superior's ears. "He might be an alien, but he's the ugliest SOB I ever saw." General Hogan merely grunted in reply.
That's the understatement of the year. Cautiously, he approached the prostrate form. Even now the being exuded a raw power that kept him from getting too close to the scaly visitor. For the first time he wondered about life beyond Earth.
What kind of aliens are out there? What kind of life? Are they all like this...or different? Are there any people out there that look like us? Maybe... An outlandish thought entered his brain, causing him to smile. Maybe there are other humans out there, even now fighting to survive somewhere beyond the heavens...
I guess I'll never know. A slight snort of amusement escaped his nostrils. It'd make for a good serial, though...
Hogan kept his narrowed eyes firmly locked on the green alien. For some strange reason he had the strong sense - no, correct that; he just knew - that the strange visitor was female.
Where did that come from? Another woman then entered his mind.
"I wonder if she'll recover?" the General mused openly. "The daughter, I mean."
"God, I hope so," the base commander breathed. "Pretty girl, too. Reminds me of my daughter." He sighed heavily, then grimaced. "I can only hope that she thinks all of this is some kind of nightmare. I'd hate to see her in a looney bin because of this."
"Yeah," Hogan softly agreed. He then walked over to the nearby table. The objects there, like their brethren in the other room, seemed dully innocent if not futuristic. He picked up a small mirrored disc that looked identical to the one Peter Driscoll had shown them earlier. He pressed his finger to the smooth surface and was rewarded when a three-dimensional picture shimmered into view. This time the 'photo' showed a uniformed lizard figure standing proudly beneath a greenish/purple sky. Other figures, slightly blurred, were visible in the background.
A graduation picture? the General wondered. It reminds me of the one Mom took of me at West Point...
The officer poked at the seemingly solid image and was somewhat awed to see half of his index finger disappear into the odd scene.
In a way, it's like magic. Isn't it? What seems fantastic - even impossible - to us would be nothing more than ordinary in their world. He shook his head in amazement. Even more: what's to stop them from mounting some kind of camera on here? Taking pictures and seeing them instantly without waiting hours - or days - to process the film?
The General looked at the bound alien for a moment before letting his eyes drift back to the object.
I wonder if we can make something like this someday? One thing's for sure: every Tom, Dick, and Harry will have a marvolous time trying to figure this riddle out...
He deactivated the viewer with another touch of his finger and placed it back on the table. As he did so, the former POW felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He cut his glance toward the stranger once more; the creature was still seemingly unconscious. Yet for a definable second he had the oddest sensation of being watched...
"Clear the building," General Hogan suddenly ordered. "Everyone out except for me and Captain Kinchloe." Surprised, General Hammond snapped his head around to look at the senior officer.
"Sir, that's unwise," he carefully began, his voice suddenly formal. "This thing is extremely dangerous! At least-"
"I didn't ask for your opinion, General," Hogan's icy tone suddenly interrupted. "I said to clear the building. Now."
General Hammond silently stared at Hogan for a long moment. "Yes, sir," he reluctantly acknowledged. "But only if you are armed. Sir." The senior General considered the respectful request, then nodded. At that moment he glanced toward his aide.
"Kinch?" Hogan cocked his head towards two nearby guards. "Grab their sidearms." As he did so Hammond slowly shook his head in resignation.
"I sure hope you know what the hell you're doing, General," he finally breathed before he cut his eyes to the nearby guards. "All right, everyone, you heard the man," the base commander said loudly. "Everyone out. Let's go." Without another word he watched the other men file out of the room before he followed suit. Moments later, Captain Kinchloe checked the hallway.
"It's clear," he announced before he secured the door. Once done, the Captain quickly worked the action on his newly acquired weapon and put it on safety before he handed the .45 to his boss. "What's going on, Rob?" he asked as he prepared his own defense.
"I'm not sure, Kinch," Hogan said lamely. The smooth grip of the pistol was oddly comforting to his slightly shaking hand. Reluctantly, he tucked the metal behind the waistband at the small of his back. In truth he had no idea why he had given the order; it was just a gut feeling.
There was also something else. If Kinch is calling me by my first name then he must be really rattled! He stole a quick glance at the normally somber black officer. Only a careful observer would have noticed the flash of worry in the man's eyes.
And if he's jittery, then what does that make me?
General Hogan walked over to the alien. From this side of the table the creature didn't seem all that threatening. Moreover, the steel bands and leather straps that encircled its limbs and torso kept it under tight control. Despite all of that - and he was reluctant to admit it even to himself - he was more than intimidated by its mere presence. He looked over at his longtime aide.
"You okay?"
"Yeah," the Captain breathed shakily. "It's just...doesn't seem real, you know," he went on. "Dreaming about it is one thing. Seeing it, though..." His eyes touched Hogan's for a moment while the men communicated unspoken emotions. Finally, he broke away. "So what do we do now?" the aide asked.
Hogan pursed his lips for a moment. "Write a report," he said finally.
Kinch groaned softly. "And I used to think you had the best ideas," he snorted. "If you're looking forward to pushing paper then something's wrong." He looked at his boss once more. "What is it?"
"It's just...I expected an answer. Or some kind of answer," the General candidly admitted. "Why did they take us? More importantly, why did they return us? For that matter, who are they?" He paused for a moment. "Then again, I'm not sure I want to know."
The Captain nodded thoughtfully. "So what will happen to the alien?" he asked.
Hogan shrugged slightly. In truth, he had a pretty good idea of what would happen to the stranger. However he didn't want to say it out loud.
And especially not here.
In the end he shook his head. "Probably end up on some airfield somewhere," he said neutrally. A small grin then appeared on his face. "And who knows? The Air Force will probably give the base a number instead of a name. Plus, it won't exist."
Kinch chuckled. "Now you're being paranoid."
"Yeah." A slow grin appeared on the General's face. "You're right." He studied the comatose alien for a moment before he turned to look at his friend. "Let's go," he finally ordered. "I think we've seen all there is to see."
As one, the two men turned and walked toward the exit. Just before they reached the doorway an odd chittering noise reached their ears. It was enough to cause both men to freeze in place; the sound from their nightmares caused their hearts to race in panic.
And it was coming from directly behind them. Just then a harsh, almost metallic voice filled the still air.
"Hogan..."
Next: This Isn't Your Mother's First Contact
A/N: The Central Intelligence Group (CIG) was the direct forerunner of the CIA. I couldn't resist the iPod reference, either. Good ideas have to come from somewhere.
Sometimes the most obvious answers are the ones that we don't consider. Really...would would consider chocolate to be a weapon?
In response to a review left by a kind reviewer *cough* Sgt. Moffitt *cough*: the kidnapped ladies would (hopefully) remain quiet since the government told them to. This was a vastly different world from the pessimistic society we live in today. Besides, who would believe them? At best they'd be dismissed as hysterical females; at worst they'd be tarred with mental problems. I wouldn't wish electroshock therapy on anyone. They used it on my aunt and she was never quite right after that.
Grace Hopper was one of the foremost - if not the best - computer experts of her day, male or female. Among her many contributions was the introduction of the term 'debugging' when a moth was found in one of the MARK II computing relays. The actual discovery of the bug was in September 1947; I just advanced the timeframe up a few months. The term 'bug' also refers to an automatic telegraph key and, oddly enough, appears in Shakespeare. Imagine that!
Hogan and Kinch would have used the weapons they were more familiar with...in this case, pistols (in my humble opinion, anyway.) You see the guys running around with pistols most of the time. The Thompson SMG also fires .45 caliber rounds but at a high rate of fire. In the old gangster movies you see the bad guys firing them on full automatic...which is (a) a waste of ammo and (b) inaccurate since the muzzle travels upward unless you hold it down. Not to mention the recoil:-)
There is always a debate about carrying a pistol in your waistband. For the record, I recommend using a holster. Shooting oneself in the posterior (or, for a guy, abruptly losing the ability to carry on intimate relationships) is NOT a nice way to start the day:-)
Thanks for reading!