The Third Craft Page 14

  “We searched the ship and never found that Cringen guy either,” Joe pointed out.

  “If all the ships are the same, then there were no aliens on any of them,” Hawk said. “We found no quarters for them. No food. No clothes. No toilet. Nothing. I’m afraid your theory is wrong. The ships came here empty. Why would there be space travelers on one ship and none on another?”

  “Boys, think about it. Why would an alien culture send a starship millions of miles empty? A drone? For what possible purpose? No – the crew was hibernating. In a place you would have never thought to look.”

  “I wonder why a hidden place?”

  “Probably to avoid what happened here. Probably to escape detection if the ship crash-landed.”

  “I ran a diagnostic layout plan of this entire ship,” Joe said. “There are no crew quarters. There were no life signs, or infrared heat signs, or anything on this ship to indicate anyone living on it. Period.”

  “I know with certainty, not only that the ships were manned, but how it was done,” Bohr said.

  “You do?” Hawk said.

  “Yes, I do. Maybe it’s about time you knew a bit more than I have told you to date. In case this goes wrong here. In case I don’t make it.”

  The boys laughed nervously. “You’re nuts. Don’t talk crazy,” Joe said.

  Bohr smiled wryly. “Boys, look at us. Look at our situation. I don’t know exactly what’s going on here, but the stakes are huge. Our lives could simply be collateral damage.”

  The twins wriggled in their chairs uncomfortably.

  Bohr continued. “It all began with the discovery of a wrecked UFO in the desert. I assembled a team to attempt to reconstruct the destroyed craft, to learn as much as we could to help the Cold War effort. Your father was a test pilot at that time. He was also a graduate engineer in aerodynamics. He volunteered to help on the aerodynamics questions that we encountered.”

  Bohr went on to tell the twins all that had happened many years before.

  The control room became quiet as each of the three became lost in his own thoughts. Joe and Hawk were now aware of their origins.

  Their father was an alien.

  Unbeknownst to them, there was confusion outside. Stell and the other two rushed from the shed and went outside. They stared up at the sky. There were no stars, only an overcast canopy.

  “He’s found us!” O’Sullivan shouted, as the sound of the Government helicopter came closer to the hangar.

  “Get to the ships. Cringen, with me. Now!” Stell yelled as he ran back into the hangar.

  Stell and his men split up and dashed inside their respective crafts.

  Stell and Cringen burst into the control room where Bohr and the boys were bound, and the main viewer sprang to life. Cringen spoke to the panel, and a small picture of the sister ship’s controls came into view. O’Sullivan was in front of its panel.

  “Follow me out. We will fire when we have a clear line of sight,” Cringen told O’Sullivan.

  The ship rose a few feet off the hangar floor. It slowly exited the open hangar doors. Its sister ship followed close behind.

  “On my signal, aim at the helicopter when it comes into view,” Cringen commanded. The image of the approaching helicopter was now visible on the screen. “Say goodbye to Daddy!” he said to the twins with no show of emotion.

  Suddenly, the helicopter slowed and then hovered nearby, its searchlight panning across the area ahead.

  Cringen held a hand to his head. “I can feel him probing.”

  Stell answered, “Me, too. He’s got a fix on my Signature. He knows we’re here!”

  The helicopter jerked suddenly skyward away from the hangar.

  “Fire!” Cringen slammed one hand on the panel and delicately touched the controls with the other. A burst of white energy shot from the craft. There was an almost unperceivable shudder of energy recoil. Almost immediately, a second line of white lightning from the other ship joined the first. The two bolts intersected at the helicopter.

  The chopper exploded into shards of white flame. Pieces of the machine flew in all directions at once. A flaming ball of aviation fuel hung where the helicopter had been moments before. Fiery debris plummeted to earth, leaving a huge black trail of dense smoke swirling downward. It hit the desert floor and exploded again. Finally the embers glowed dimmer and dimmer as the fuel burned down.

  Joe squeezed his eyes shut. It can’t be! he thought. It can’t be our father out there. He couldn’t have been on that doomed helicopter.

  The ships retracted majestically into the hangar.

  “He went for the bait and followed them here,” Stell said.

  Cringen looked at his captives. “Now that he’s taken care of, I’m not sure we need to keep you around any longer.”

  CHAPTER18

  SOUTH OF ROSWELL, NEW MEXICO

  Moments before his helicopter was blown out of the sky, Frank Grayer was peering suspiciously at an old rusted aircraft hangar a mile or so ahead on an abandoned USAF base. He trained a powerful spotlight on the building. He focused his senses on the hangar below. He probed various Signatures.

  He had found their lair. He pushed and felt for Stell’s Signature. He found it easily. Grayer knew that Stell knew he had been spotted. His Aura darkened as it became threatening. Grayer was aware that an attack was imminent.

  He grabbed the right seat stick and applied full throttle to the diesel engines. He arched the helicopter away from the hangar toward the open desert. He sensed it was too little, too late. The attack was immanent. His defensive shield was the only option.

  With a flick of his hand, Grayer released his seatbelt and shoulder harness. In a flash, he leapt from his seat, grabbed the pilot by the lapel, and pulled himself close to the pilot’s body. Grayer focused his will on a full-body protection aura that would encapsulate the pilot and protect them both. At that exact instant, the beams hit the craft and it exploded. As the fuel ignited, Grayer and the pilot tumbled earthward encapsulated in a green bubble.

  Seconds mattered. The pilot’s seat was aflame and dragging both of them down. Enveloping both bodies and the burning seat was using too much of Kor’s aura. He would have to jettison the seat. He reached down to the leg of his flight suit and slipped out his knife. He flicked it open and slashed the shoulder harness in one motion. The seat flew away in a ball of flaming sparks.

  Grayer was then able to envelop the pilot completely, just before the pair struck the desert floor. Their two bodies were encapsulated within a shimmering green ball that bounced once and rolled away from the burning wreck. The entire event was hidden from view by the explosion of the helicopter. Stell didn’t see them escape.

  The force of the fall broke both the pilot’s legs. Grayer fared better because he had braced for impact. Back on his home planet, Kor had trained for events like this.

  The pilot screamed in agony. Grayer could not tell how badly he was hurt. He was uncertain if there was internal damage to the pilot’s organs as well.

  He couldn’t sustain the present level of protective cowling indefinitely. He decided to conserve energy for Stell’s next attack. The green aura diminished and was evident only on one side where it protected the two from the flaming wreck. It looked like a six-foot transparent green umbrella lying on its side.

  The injured pilot was crying out in agony, oblivious to his surroundings. Grayer cupped the pilot’s face in his hands and looked into his eyes. The mesmerized pilot went silent, and Grayer sent him to sleep with a few singsong words. He caught the comatose pilot in his arms and gently placed him on the desert floor. He didn’t want to move him for fear of aggravating his injuries.

  Grayer sat on his haunches and prepared for his adversaries to come and attempt to finish him off.

  He cloaked his Signature using a kind of self-hypnosis and simply waited for an attack, watching the sputtering embers from the explosion slowly die down.

  After waiting about half an hour, it became evident that th
e follow-up attack would not come. They must think we’re finished – that we were killed in the explosion, he thought.

  He foraged around in the pockets of his flight suit until he found the small satellite telephone given to him before he left. He punched the preprogrammed telephone number and waited. After several rings, an adjutant answered. Grayer identified himself.

  “We’ve encountered a situation here,” he yelled into the small phone. “I need ground evacuation for my injured pilot. Not sure of the coordinates, so please home in on my transmission signal.”

  “Acknowledged. Please stand by, sir.” There was an extended delay. “Sir, we confirm a lock on your present location. Expect ground evacuation by 0500.”

  Grayer looked at his watch. “That long?”

  “Yes, sir. If you’d rather we air-evac, that would be much quicker.”

  “No. Too risky. We’ll wait. Have them bring an ambulance. Out.”

  Inside the ship, Stell left the control room with a nod to Cringen to follow.

  Out of the captives’ earshot, Cringen turned to Stell. “I recommend we terminate our hostages. Kor is dead. No one could have survived that attack and explosion. I see no reason to keep them alive. His spawn may have inherited his powers. They could be a threat.”

  His words were a prod to Stell’s indecisiveness. Whatever his ambitions, he was not a murderer of children.

  “Is there any evidence that Kor is dead?” Stell asked.

  “Not yet. It might be prudent to visit the crash site and confirm the kill.”

  Stell pondered the suggestion. “You’re right. Never assume.” He motioned back to the control room. “Let’s finish here first.”

  After the trio’s bindings were cut, Cringen barked. “Outside.”

  “I don’t like the looks of this,” Joe whispered to Hawk.

  The captives were marched out of the control room and walked off the ship and onto the dusty hangar floor. The two aliens stood together.

  Bohr looked steadily at Stell and then at Cringen. “We know who you are. The Government will hunt you down.”

  Cringen looked at Bohr. “Oh, don’t count on that, old man.”

  Without warning, Cringen calmly raised his pistol and shot Bohr at point-blank range. The bullet exploded into his chest, puncturing a lung and severing several arteries.

  Bohr clutched his body and began to sag. Cringen fired again. This time the bullet blew through his heart and exited out the back of his ribcage. Bohr’s body flew backward, but Hawk caught him before he hit the ground, his shirt splattered with blood. Both boys screamed in horror.

  Joe, screeching in blind rage dashed toward Cringen. Hawk reached out his arm and collared him.

  “Stop, Joe! They’ll kill you, too.”

  Stell grabbed Cringen’s gun away from him and struck him across the face with the barrel. “How dare you? I never gave the order to kill.”

  Cringen spat out blood in defiance.

  Hawk cradled Bohr’s twitching body. Joe rushed to his side, his eyes wide with shock. The twins watched the life ooze out of their surrogate father. Bohr’s sightless eyes went cloudy as death embraced him. Joe was gulping air in short bursts. The hangar was silent after the rolling echoes of the pistol shots had ended.

  “Get up, you two,” Stell said.

  The boys held the body of their dear old friend, ignoring Stell. This was the first time they had encountered death first-hand. Hawk felt as if someone had thrust a giant iron fist into his gut and twisted. Joe was still struggling for air.

  Joe let go of Bohr’s body and shrugged off Hawk’s hand.

  “I’m going to kill you, you alien freak!”

  The air became charged with energy – from out of nowhere it snapped and sizzled. Joe was trembling. Hawk glanced at his brother and his jaw dropped. Joe, the teenager of eighteen, was gone. In his place was an enraged man who no longer even looked human. Colors began to swirl in Joe’s eyes like sparks.

  Stell ignored the charged atmosphere. “I said get up!” he bellowed. “We’re not going to hurt you. But we have to leave, and I have to take you with me.”

  Joe looked at the blood dripping from his hands. David’s blood. He began to emit a growling noise. The pitch of the growl rose and rose until the sound began to rattle the walls of the hangar. His hands were limp at his side. Wisps of lightning arched from his fingertips and snapped at the ground with an explosive crackling. In an instant, his entire body was encased in a transparent green canopy.

  Cringen grabbed Stell by the arm. “He has the power! Just like his father.”

  Stell shook him off and made a motion of peace toward Joe. Cringen, sensing the danger from the boy, grabbed the pistol from Stell and fired at Joe. The bullets ricocheted off the green shield and clattered to the ground.

  Joe’s fury was all encompassing. The volume of his shriek was deafening. Cringen held his hands over his ears and began to stumble backward. Joe reached out a hand and Hawk took it automatically. The two twins stood side by side, now both protected by the aura.

  The green aura gained strength and began to pulsate. The brothers, guided by some instinct, stared straight ahead at Stell and Cringen. The hair began to rise from their skulls, as if a secret wind was blowing.

  Instinctively Joe knew what to do. He nodded his head forward slightly and began to push.

  Cringen, not as well trained as Stell mentally, grabbed at his head and screamed in agony. Blood gushed from his nose. His gun was still in his hand, but his resolve had wavered. Stell grabbed him by the shirtsleeve and dragged him away. Both men stumbled backward as the mental assault from the twins increased in intensity. Cringen fired a few rounds in futile frustration, and then broke into a run.

  Stell and Cringen ran, clutching their heads, toward the second spacecraft. Inside the control room, Stell barked at O’Sullivan, “Get us out of here, now!”

  “But their ship blocks the door!” O’Sullivan said.

  Stell leapt to the control panel and shoved him aside. “Idiot! This is a spaceship, for God’s sake. We don’t need doors!”

  Stell punched the panel and the ship rose swiftly. It made a half-turn, then crashed through the flimsy corrugated-steel roof. Pieces of roofing material and rusted girders rained down onto the hangar floor. There was a tremendous clatter and clanging and then the hangar was silent. They were gone.

  Hawk let go of Joe’s hand and turned and touched the body of Bohr as if that very act could bring him back to life. It didn’t. Bohr lay slumped in a pool of dark red blood, his eyes staring back at them in cloudy indifference.

  Hawk went down on one knee and wrapped a sympathetic arm around Joe’s quivering shoulders. Joe was crouched down hugging both of his legs, his chin resting on his kneecaps, staring at Bohr.

  After some time, Hawk stood up and said softly, “Help me inside with him, will you, Joe?”

  Joe ran his sleeve across his eyes and nodded absently. Each of the boys hooked Bohr’s body by an armpit. Together they re-entered the craft. Bohr’s shirt was saturated with blood. The twins gently placed him in a small room, then proceeded to the bridge together.

  Back in the control room, the pair slumped in their seats.

  “I say we go to the crash site,” Hawk said. “If it was Dad in that helicopter, he may need help.”

  “If it was Dad, he’s probably dead,” Joe said. “You saw the explosion. I’m not sure I can handle any more deaths right now.”

  Hawk let the statement linger. “You know we have to go and see for ourselves, Joe. You know we have to. I need you to fly us there.”

  Joe nodded and turned toward the control panel. He backed the ship slowly out of the hangar. There was a pool of dark red blood where Bohr had died. In the distance, Joe saw the remaining fragments of the crash still glowing in the desert. Joe approached the site and applied spotlights to the immediate area. Their ship slowly passed over the smoldering debris scattered over the ground.

  There was nothing. Joe extin
guished the lights and prepared to abandon the area.

  Suddenly, Hawk called out, “Over there, Joe. It’s a green light. See it?”

  Joe saw it, about a hundred yards. He trained the spots on the area and proceeded to fly there cautiously.

  When they arrived, he flicked the lights back on to reveal a strange but welcome sight. Their father was tending to an injured man. He squinted up into the bright searchlights and waved.

  Joe extinguished the lights. “He’s alive! Hawk, he’s alive!”

  Overcome by excitement, Joe clumsily landed the craft, its nose plowing into the desert gravel. They both charged from the control room and ran to their father.

  Their silent but hearty embrace lasted for several moments.

  But something was muting the twins’ exuberance, and Grayer could feel it. He pulled back and looked from Hawk’s face to Joe’s, only then noticing that they were covered in blood.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” he asked.

  That opened a floodgate of grief as the boys described the murder of Bohr and the trauma of the past few hours. Grayer clenched his hands in anger.

  “Help me bring in the pilot.”

  They held the pilot up by his armpits and, lifting him off the ground, took him into the spacecraft. A sad moan escaped from Grayer as he spotted the body of Bohr slumped in a heap. The first human that Kor had ever known was now a victim of his past. He held his old friend unabashedly in his arms.

  He nodded to the doorway. “Come with me, there’s no time to spare. If we’re in luck, we may be able to rescue the crew. I will show you where to find their hibernation quarters.”

  “So there was a crew on board!”

  The boys followed their father down a series of short corridors. Grayer halted and touched a seemingly solid wall, and a three-foot door shuttered open. Inside was a blank cell. Grayer had expected to see a case, somewhat like an egg carton, with several silver balls inside. To his shock, the tiny cell was empty.

  “Dad. What is it?” Joe asked. “Where are the crew’s quarters? This can’t be it. This is a hole in the wall. Literally.”