Chapter 1 : Alien Crash

Chapter 1

Jim would have enough points in the state retirement system for retirement in a few years but he wasn't in a hurry. Extra years would increase his retirement so he wouldn't need to take another job if he was careful. Then he could spend all of his time in the desert along the Colorado River. He had a little paunch from so many hours sitting in a class room but was still in pretty good shape. Every summer break he would spend in the Game Preserve that stretched along the Colorado River on the Arizona side of the river. Every long weekend was spent out in the desolate area along the Colorado and at least one weekend a month in the mountains north of Phoenix. Despite his lack of financial success, Jim did love geology. He enjoyed reading the story a seam of mineral running along a cliff face told. That is why he lived in Arizona. Huge chunks of the earth's crust had been ripped free and tipped on its side which allowed him to literally look back in time. He could see the state of the earth a million years ago simply by walking into a canyon.

Jim had another reason for sticking around his job after he was able to retire. He liked being able to walk into a high school freshman class and see all those young girls. They were all fun to look at but there were always a few that were special. The freshman girls hadn't figured out what to do with their new tits and asses yet so were, in a sense, putting them on display to see if anyone was willing to show them what to do. Their short skirts and shorts or tops that were too loose or too brief were as good as a bonus to his teacher's pay. The special ones, well, they were the ones that seemed to like older men. They would make special efforts to press their young tits against his arm when asking him a question, or squeeze their shoulders together which opened their blouse more so he could see their little tits. He hadn't molested any of them, well; at least he hadn't fucked any of them. He had played with the bare tits of a little blonde freshman one time earlier this year in exchange for a C instead of a D in a moment of weakness. He avoided situations like that because he didn't want to spend quality time with a horny guy named Bubba in a jail cell. Still, it was a nice memory that still gave him a hard on. Jim got his relief from a couple of oriental massage therapists that would come to his house about once a month. They were small girls too and he could visualize them being his students. One of his fantasies was one of the oriental therapists teaching one of his students how to please a man.

Jim had to reach down to adjust his cock as he walked down the canyon towards his camp site. It was almost dark now in the bottom of the narrow twisting canyon but enough light filtered down so he could make sure he didn't step on any snakes. Looking up he could see the darkening azure sky of an Arizona sunset almost 150 feet above him. He recognized the area of the canyon he was walking through. He was still about a quarter mile from his camp. The canyon made three sharp S turns just ahead of him then emptied out on the open plain that he had camped on. The pace he was keeping would have him at the camp in less than 10 minutes. He would have enough light to make it back, barely. He should have started back earlier but a quartz seam in a cliff side had been fascinating. These mountains were no place to get stuck in at night even if you did know where you were.

Jim lengthened his stride a little more to ensure he made it out of the canyon before full dark. Suddenly he was illuminated by a bright light and a moment later he was knocked from his feet by a concussion of sound. Jim was about half buried in the soft sand at the bottom of the canyon from the force of the fall which was more of a slam into the ground. He was lying there stunned when a blast of hot air washed up the canyon and over him.

"What the hell had happened," Jim wondered? He laid there, ears ringing, but numb otherwise. He could smell singed hair. He reached up and gently touched his face and winced. It was very tender. He tried to tell if he had any broken bones by flexing his muscles. Everything seemed to be intact so he tried to raise himself onto his elbows to look around. It worked but damn he was sore. Slowly he looked around the canyon bottom. There had been scrub brush along the bottom of the little canyon earlier. Now there were only the burnt stubs of the brown plants. He had created a depression in the soft sand when he hit so most of the heat had gone over him.

Slowly he got to his feet and looked around. His pack was lying about ten feet from him, the plastic snaps that held the straps together broken and melted. The nylon of the pack was melted too and he could see the metal implements he had carried in the pack melted slightly and deformed.

"Damn," Jim said out loud. "It is a good thing I wasn't standing up when that hit." Which got his mind working and he wondered what had hit. Did an airplane crash? Did a meteorite hit? He started stumbling towards the mouth of the canyon. It was full dark now but the sky was lit by a strange red afterglow.

Jim looked on what he thought hell would look like as he stumbled from the mouth of the canyon. His camp site was gone. His pickup truck was still there but was only a molten, smoking ruin. The entire little plain that he had camped on was covered by small fires. All the vegetation was gone and the hills on the other side of the plain were covered by what was left of burning trees. It looked like pieces of metal were scattered throughout the little valley. It looked like an airplane had crashed. Maybe it was one of those experimental planes the television shows talked about up in Nevada. Three large balls of metal were lying a short distance from the mouth of the canyon. As he watched, one ball collapsed in on itself and melted into a slag heap.

Jim stumbled forward towards the two remaining balls of metal. The heat was intense but not unbearable. He reached the first ball and saw a jagged crack running down the side. A pale red liquid was leaking from the ball. He felt, something, a deep sadness, and the ball melted into a slag heap like the other one. He could feel himself start crying from the intensity of the emotion as he stumbled towards the last ball. He stopped before it and looked at the intricate markings on the sides. It was nearly as tall as he was. He reached out to touch it but jerked his hand back from the heat.

Jim fell backwards, landing on his butt, as a click and whirring noise came from the sphere. It opened like a clam shell and he could see something inside from the reflected red light of the fires. He saw what looked like a small man, or at least a humanoid. There was something wrong with the shape of the head. The head looked like it was too large for the body and was bald. A thin red liquid was running from the mouth as the man, humanoid, tried to move. It fumbled with straps that held it in a cushioned seat.

"HELP ME," Jim heard. It wasn't a sound. It was in his head and it sounded like a plea. He crawled forward and carefully reached a hand toward the creature. It was cool, almost cold inside the sphere. He touched the straps holding the creature in the seat and the creature grabbed his hand.

Jim tried to jerk his hand back but was suddenly paralyzed. He couldn't move. It was as if something else was controlling his body. He couldn't even talk. He tried to ask, "What are you doing to me?" in growing panic but his mouth and voice box didn't work.

Jim felt his fear fade but knew that was unreasonable. He should be scared shitless. The knowledge that he should be scared seemed to be an interesting fact that could be put aside for now like an interesting piece of quartz.

"Ah," Jim heard in his head. The sound seemed to reverberate inside his skull. He heard it but not with his ears. "You haven't reached our level yet. Humanoid? Yes, I understand." Then he felt/heard genuine astonishment as he understood, "Less than 500,000 years since consciousness? That is much faster than any other sentient we have found and already at this technological level. You are still a baby and already equal or beyond older sentient beings."

Jim felt like something was going through his memories like a browser in a bookstore would rifle through books. He caught glimmerings of thoughts, some made sense and but most were so alien he couldn't relate to them at all.

Maybe he couldn't feel fear but he did feel anger surging inside him and sensed surprise at the emergence of an emotion that, whatever or whoever, didn't have immediate control over.

He couldn't talk but he could think and if this thing was in his head then he could think at it.

"WHO ARE YOU?" Jim thought. The question was as forceful and focused as he could make it. He felt a shudder of pain and sorrow as the other intelligence seemed to pull back slightly. Jim's impression was of how he would hold an interesting rock or specimen at arm's length to get a better look at it.

There was no response so Jim decided to try that again and thought, "Who... " and was stopped cold.

Then he felt a gentle touch on his mind, a loving gentle touch it seemed; then thoughts started coming to him and after a moment they made sense.

"Please don't do that, Jim. I am dying and, in pain. Yes, you shouting, at me like that increases my pain and, negates, shortens my life. I have offended you, violated you, this is what you feel."

Throughout this strange communication, Jim could feel the gentle touches on his mind as this being searched for the right words to communicate with him and explain. He could also feel a calm desperation in the communication.

"We, I am, yes, sorry for, offending you."

Jim felt a release on his mind and his fear surged briefly, and then rolled back with his anger like a wave on a shore. He examined himself, tried to evaluate if he was being controlled and decided not. He could still feel the contact of the other mind as a tenuous thread of consciousness. He could also still feel the calm desperation that he had sensed before.

"Ah, can you, ah, understand me?" Jim thought at the creature. He sensed the wince in the touch on his mind and this time actually saw the physical wince in the thin body. "Sorry," he thought back much quieter. He could feel the relief in the other being at the softer tones in his thoughts.

"Yes, thank you, yes I can understand you."

"Can I help you?" Jim thought softly. "You said you were dying. Can I help you?"

"No, yes, yes I see, yes you can help. This body will, expire in moments. May I wait with you?"

Jim was stunned for a moment. Expire, dying, wait with me?

"Ah, wait for what?" Jim asked as he tried desperately to make sense of this strange conversation.

"Wait, with you, wait for, ah, yes, rescue."

"Well, I guess it is OK," Jim said hesitantly but his mind started racing as the impact of what had happened struck home. This was a space ship! This was an alien and he was talking to it! The government idiots would be coming. He didn't want to be jabbed and poked the rest of his life.

"I don't know how I can hide you," Jim said as his fears of the government people that would start arriving at any time started growing. "You can wait with me but I don't know how," Jim said with growing fear.

"Thank, Thank You Jim, don't fear, no pain, no loss, I must join you now."

A part of his mind was filled with an intense, fullness but his eyes could still see and he could still understand what he was seeing. The body of the small man seemed to be melting and the capsule was dissolving around the small man thing as if the consciousness of the being had been holding the molecular structure together. Jim stumbled backward and landed in the sand again as he watched the sphere as it melted into the shallow depression it had made in the sand.

He just sat on the ground looking around him in awe. Had that just happened? Had he talked to an alien? He shook his head trying to order his thoughts but he seemed slightly woozy and still had that, full feeling in his head. It was almost as if his sinuses were way too full like at the end of a bad cold, but different.

Slowly Jim leveraged himself to his feet and stumbled more than walked to what used to be his pickup and looked around. It couldn't have been a space ship. It couldn't have been an alien he was talking to. Getting slammed to the ground like that, probably hitting his head, and no telling what kind of fumes he had been breathing for the last few minutes. This must be something from that damned Army Proving Grounds just a few miles south of him.

Jim looked at his truck again and felt a slow anger building in him. A completely refurbished 1975 Ford F-150 four wheel drive. This truck would go anyplace in the desert he asked it to and it looked good driving around town too. He had seen the Chicanos checking it out. And he wouldn't have minded giving some of the Chicano babes a ride or two in it either. There were some hot ones. But no truck now and he felt his anger build a little higher as lights appeared over the ridge and he heard the sound of helicopters.

A Government response team was already on site. He couldn't tell them he had talked to an alien. They would never let him go. He decided his only chance is to play the angry local yokel and blame them for everything.

Chapter 2

Jim Bronson felt the anger building even more as he stalked towards the helicopter that was settling closest to him. Men in funny looking hazmat suits started piling out of the helicopter, some with instruments, and some with guns.

"What the hell are you guys doing," he yelled at the nearest man that happened to have a rifle. "Look what you did to my truck," Jim continued gesturing towards the slag heap that he used to be so proud of. "Who's going to pay for that," he demanded.

"Get down now," a muffled voice demanded. Another figure moved up beside him, a small figure with an instrument in his hands and started waving a wand at him.

"Not now Janis," another muffled voice commanded and something hit Jim in the fold of his knees so he dropped to his knees on the sharp rocks. The person with the wand moved away still waving the wand at everything that wasn't native to the desert.

"What are you doing," Jim yelled growing even angrier as he tried to get to his feet. Then he froze as he felt a gun muzzle against his head and another against the back of his neck. Very slowly he settled his knee back into the sharp rocks. After a wince he asked, a lot more calmly, "Just stay calm boys. Ah, can I move my knees off these sharp rocks?"

There was silence for a moment. Silence except for the still burning debris snapping and crackling and the helicopter motors and orders being yelled around other parts of the flats. But there was silence around him until that muffled commanding voice said, "Move him over to that clear sandy area. I will talk to him later."

Two big men grabbed Jim's arms and dragged him to the designated sandy area. He wasn't allowed to walk. They had been ordered to move him and that is what they did. He was deposited on his knees in the sandy area and one rifle barrel was again pressed against his head and the other against the back of his neck. Well, they hadn't been ordered not to point guns at him.

"Grab your ankles," one of his captors ordered. He decided to comply.

He saw the man that he thought had been giving orders standing a little ways from him with a little group of figures clustered around him. He seemed to be giving more orders because every few moments one of the figures would rush off on some errand and another would join his group.

Jim's legs were starting to cramp in this position when the figure giving orders looked in his direction again. He seemed to be thinking then sent one of the figures around him rushing to Jim's side. Not a word was said as the figure grabbed one of his arms and pulled it straight. An alcohol swab cleaned an area of his arm. The figure looked at all the dirt that had come off and smeared on his arm then pulled out two more swabs. The figure was satisfied there was a clean area after the third swab and poked Jim with a needle and drew some blood. A couple of vials were drawn but one was put on a strip and pushed into a little meter, like a diabetic field testing device.

The man giving orders had approached during the blood drawing and Jim hadn't even noticed. "Well?" he demanded looking down at the small figure that drew the blood.

"He is human sir," a female voice said.

"What, "Jim demanded, "are you talking about? Of course I am human. Who the hell is responsible for this mess and who is going to replace my truck?"

"Calm down sir," the female voice said quietly.

"What is your name and what are you doing here?" the man giving orders demanded in crisp, clipped tones.

He was answering before he even thought about it. 'It must be ingrained habit from my years in the Army, ' Jim thought. "Jim Bronson sir," he said, starting calmly enough. "I am a geologist and teach natural history at the Phoenix High School District. I have been coming out to the Kofa game preserve to explore and study the geology of the area for over twenty years and this is the first time those fools at the Yuma Proving Grounds have dropped anything on me. Who the hell is going to replace that truck? Not just pay for it. Replace it!" he finished with a yell.

The rifle pressing against the back of him neck jabbed him at the outburst.

"And would you please tell these heroes to pull their rifles back? If they can't hit me from a foot away they need to go back to the range. I heard that today's army can't hit shit with a rifle but they don't have to try to push the bullets through me," he concluded sarcastically.

He thought he heard a strangled giggle from the female but he could have been wrong.

Jim was proud that he had started that so calmly but was a little irritated that he wasn't able to finish calmly. One thing Jim had learned teaching in a Phoenix High School was how to stay calm. There are gang bangers from every ethnic group in the country in the Phoenix school system and some of them were extremely violent. Getting angry only adds fuel to whatever fire was burning in them so you learn to stay calm or move to someplace more sedate, like northern Maine.

The rifles pulled back, apparently with a gesture from the guy that was giving orders. He shook his head trying to clear his thoughts. He still felt slightly woozy.

He took a deep breath and calmly said, "Look. I was up the canyon there," he said gesturing with one arm and the muzzle of the rifle pressed against the back of his neck again. "Damn it, would you stop that?" he exploded. "I really don't like having weapons pointed at me," he said glaring over his shoulder at the faceless figure behind him. An impatient gesture from the Command person moved the soldier back a few steps.

"Thanks," Jim said turning back to the Command person and relaxing a little. "I come out here when I can get a long weekend," he started. "This is, was one of my favorite camping spots," he continued gesturing around his former camp. "My pick up, tent with sleeping bag inside," he said pointing to a melted pile of nylon. There really wasn't much left of his camp and he just shook his head in disgust and trying to clear some of the wooziness. "Anyway, there is an interesting rock wall about a mile up that canyon that lets you look back over 150,000 years. I try to work on it whenever I can. I have been up there since about 6:30 this morning, just looking at earth's geological history. I was on my way back to camp when I was knocked down, singed pretty good, and all my gear was destroyed."

"Do you have any proof of this story Mr. Bronson?" the Command guy asked in his precise, clipped tone.

"Well general," Jim said a little sarcastically, "all my gear is trashed but if that isn't enough proof you can go look at my rock wall."

One of the rifle guys pressed his rifle against the side of Jim's head again.

"Damn it, I asked you to not do that," he growled and, reaching up, gently moved the muzzle away from his head. After brief resistance the muzzle moved away and he heard a soft chuckle from the Command guy.

"Oh yeah," he said, "You can find what's left of my back pack up that canyon about three turns. There isn't much left of that either. When I was knocked down I landed in soft sand and it mounded up around me. I think that mound is what kept me from being a crispy critter. All the vegetation and my pack were cooked."

Command guy turned to Rifle guy #1 and snapped, "Check it, and bring it back if you find it."

After a snappy "Yes Sir," Rifle guy #1 trotted off heading up the canyon.

Jim noticed that Rifle guy #2 tensed slightly since he was the only one protecting Command guy,

He looked at him and the rifle he was pointing at him for a moment in irritation. He noticed the rifle wasn't on safe and that the soldier's finger was on the trigger. That sent a cold chill up his spine.

"Is that really necessary?" he asked turning to Command guy and gesturing towards Rifle guy #2.

A clipped "Yes," was the only response he got back.

Still on his knees he turned to the woman and asked, "Are you a doc?"

Her hazmat hood turned to Command guy but, since he didn't say anything replied with a muffled "Yes."

"Well, do you have any aspirin or anything for headache? I don't know if I hit my head when I was knocked down or just have a headache from breathing all the fumes from the Army's toy they dropped on me but it is starting to hurt pretty badly," he said with his most winning smile. Granted, his smile was a little strained from the headache that was coming on and the fact that he was kneeling in the sand with a rifle pointed at him.

The woman looked back to Command guy for instruction but about that time Rifle guy #1 trotted up to the group with the remains of Jim's back pack. Command guy gestured and Rifle guy #1 put the pack down beside Command guy, about 10 feet from Jim. Command guy looked at him for a moment then, pulling a wicked looking survival knife from a sheath in the small of his back, proceeded to flip items out of the melted hole in his pack.

The rubber grip on his rock hammer was melted and the metal had a burnt, bluish sheen in the light. He had a nylon bag inside the pack with some food left from his lunch but that was a melted blob too. There were various chunks of mineral in the bottom of the pack.

Command guy held up one of them and snapped, "What is this?"

"Hard to tell from here general but it looks like Iron Pyrite at one end and gypsum at the other end," he said just a little flippantly. "I kept that particular specimen because they usually don't show up together. I want to know why they do here. What, don't you believe I am a geologist?"

Command guy looked at me for a very long moment then standing said, "OK, let him up. Take him back to base. One escort," he continued pointing at Rifle guy #2.

Jim interrupted him with, "Can he quit pointing that rifle at me general?"

Command guy looked back at him again, stopped in mid sentence. It seemed that he was not used to being interrupted.

After a moment he turned back to Rifle guy #2 and said, "Security level 3."

"Yes Sir," Rifle guy #2 snapped and put his rifle on safe and brought it to port arms just like he would on a parade field.

Command guy turned to Doctor Girl and said, "Go with him. I want a full work up and I want the results by 0900 tomorrow."

"Ah, yes sir," Doctor Girl said.

Jim stiffly got to his feet as Command guy turned to walk away.

"Sir," he said, "Will the Army pay for the gear and truck they destroyed when they dropped their toy on me?"

Command guy slowly turned back to him and stared. Jim couldn't see his eyes through the lenses of the hazmat suit and that was particularly unnerving. Then he walked over to Jim until he was standing less than a foot in front of him.

"This was not an Army toy Mr. Bronson," Command guy said in his cold, measured, clipped tones. "Whatever 'This' was, we tracked it just as it intersected earth's orbit coming from a trajectory that meant it would have come from someplace outside our solar system. We thought it was a meteor until it changed direction and speed. So no Mr. Bronson, I don't think the Army will replace your gear or your truck. Personally, I think you are very lucky to be alive."

There was a long pause with him just staring at Jim, who just stood there in shock, mouth open and eyes wide. He thought the Command guy was finished but he had more to say to him.

"What I have just told you is Top Secret Mr. Bronson. From your demeanor I will assume that you have had some military experience but we will check that out to ensure it. I think you know what Top Secret means Mr. Bronson. If you breathe a word of this, even in your sleep, I will know about it. I will personally lock you up UNDER the deepest prison I can find. Do you understand that Mr. Bronson?"

Command guy scared Jim. It wasn't so much what he said as the cold impersonal tone of the little speech.

"Yes Sir," he said. He didn't want any trouble with this guy.

Chapter 3

They rode back to the base in one of the helicopters so it was a quick trip. After they were airborne the chopper crew chief announced, "Clear," and they all removed their hazmat suit helmets.

Medical Girl was the first to get hers off and she was a pleasant sight, from what Jim could see of her. Her hair was a very light brown with almost blonde highlights and pulled up on top of her head in a bun. She had a sprinkling of freckles across her nose and cheeks and when she smiled at him, he could see her straight white teeth.

"Hi, "she said holding out one hand that was still gloved. She looked down at her hand apologetically and said, "The air is clear but everything in here, including us, will need to be decontaminated before we can touch anything Mr. Bronson. I am Major Jane Janis, ah, Doctor Janis." She grinned at his expression when she said her name. "Yeah, I know. My parents didn't have much of an imagination." She hesitated for only a moment then continued. "Most of my friends call me JJ. Do you still need some aspirin?"

Jim clasped her gloved hand and returned her grin with a strained version of his own. "Yes please. Aspirin or Excedrin, anything for this headache. And my friends call me Jim."

Rifle guy got his hood off and looked across at Jim with a little bit of a sheepish grin. He was only a kid, maybe 20 years old with blonde hair and a gap toothed smile. "Sorry about that back there. The general said security condition 1 when we hit the hot spot," he said with a shrug.

Jim smiled back and said, "That's OK. I understand orders and the need to follow them even if you don't like them. That's why I didn't stay in."

"You were in the Army," the kid asked?

"Yep, but that was a long time ago. I liked the experience and wouldn't trade it for the world but it could have turned into too much of a good thing. I like being able to say no to my boss if I want to," he concluded smiling.

It was less than a 40 minute ride to the base with very a little small talk over the roar of the engines. Dr. Janis, Jane gave him some aspirin but it didn't seem to have much of an effect. He was still wincing at loud sounds as they settled on the landing pad. He wanted to just think but it was difficult with what felt like the mother of all migraines coming on. What had happened back there? He couldn't say anything to anyone or they would lock him up for the rest of his life. Did something really happen to him? By the time they arrived at the landing pad Jim had concluded that he had played it right at his camping spot and he needed to continue that way until he got clear of these people.

There was a confused bustle of activity when they arrived at the base. Apparently someone had called ahead and they were expecting him. He was hustled to a tent enclosure by some guys, or gals, in different color hazmat suits. He was stripped, washed down, and all the water that had sluiced off him was collected in a separate container. Even his hair was washed. He was given a grey jump suit and was led inside one of the old style Quonset huts. He didn't even know they used these any longer.

The outside may have looked like a 50's style Gomer Pyle flashback but the insides looked like something out of a 2010 movie. Jim was led by more hazmat suited figures to a chamber and told to sit inside. One of the smaller figures, female he thought, said it would only be for ten minutes. They needed to get complete breath samples to get an idea of what he had breathed at 'Ground Zero'. That is how she said it. You could hear the capitals in her voice.

So he sat for ten minutes watching what little activity he could see through the little window and tried to think. His head still felt full and it still hurt like a son of a bitch. It was maybe a little better than it had been. Besides the slightly receding pain, the full feeling was more like the feeling you get after a good meal when you have almost eaten enough to feel uncomfortable and it just feels right to loosen your belt a notch. Except this was in his head! What was THIS?