Chapter 2

Across this planet, the appearance of our ship has caused a great deal of consternation. Through their communications and information network, amateur astronomers, doomsday speculators, reporters, clan leaders and polytechs are busy asking questions and posing theories. Andrea, who has been appointed my liaison, explains the general consensus from those whose opinion matters, that our light ship is a space station, secretly built and launched into orbit, by one of the more powerful clans. A firestorm of accusations and denials is flashing backwards and forwards demanding to know its purpose and whether there are some terrible weapons on board that threaten to annihilate one clan or another. Or though speculation is rife, the general public are not aware one of the crew of this 'space station' has landed and in the possession of the most powerful clan, the Americans.

Those who have witnessed the arrival of my 'shuttle craft' at this secret facility, have little doubt it hasn't been manufactured on this planet. It is still housed in one of their buildings being guarded day and night by security staff, not of their military, but in the employ of a more secret organization. The Commander of the base describes them as ''damned CIA', although even he doesn't know precisely what secret organization they, in fact, belong.

The Commander is called 'Colonel', although his men call him 'Rye Gut' or 'Moonshine Bob', but never to his face. He is open-minded, intelligent - a decent man, but sad. His partner of many years died recently of something called 'the big C' and he has been in mourning ever since. He has taken to visiting me in the evening in my quarters having imbibed large doses of an alcoholic spirit. Andrea is uncomfortable during these visits because she has learned to be afraid of 'drunk superior officers with a passkey.' She sits on my side of the table to avoid 'his roving digits', our touch screens before us so she can 'translate' the conversation. She has not told him I can now understand their language quite well, although the words are hard for me speak.

This evening he has arrived and flung himself into a chair opposite, disheveled, and clearly having drunk 'a good skinful.' Andrea pretends to translate, because, she says, we are still under observation by their secret organization.

"I tell you," he says, "my grandaddy came out to this country from Poland, dirt poor, with nothing but the shirt on his back. No English, not a fucking word of English could he understand. He met my granny 2 days off the boat. She was Italian, from a large family - big New York Italian family - not a dime to their name. They start an ice cream business, then a little restaurant - still there, but under different owners. Worked their butts off to provide a life for their kids. That's the America I swore to defend. 'Bring your huddled masses' the 'American dream' - it was true, once, before the country was taken over by the fucking bankers. We welcomed anybody - anybody at all, providing they were prepared to work. That's what made us great."

[Is this correct?] I ask Andrea via our screens.

[More or less. The Colonel is close to retirement. Many of his generation is resentful the way things have changed] she replies.

"Anyone threatens this country, you betcha, I'm coming to hit him and hit him hard," he continues. "But, we gotta use the law, see? By the book, or we're no better than the damned terrorists."

[He is a lawyer] Andrea says. [If he has hit anybody in his life, it would be in a bar in Miami] She stifles a smile.

[A lawyer? Why is a military man a lawyer?]

[His career in the Air Force has been as a policeman. He is head of base security and administration. Many senior law enforcement officers study law to help their careers]

"A terrorist gets a 10 year old kid to strap a bomb to themselves and blow up innocent people. Your terrorist doesn't know his victims - never considers the lives of the people he's killing. He's disconnected from the act of taking lives. Doesn't take responsibility. Now, we have geeks playing Playstations up there in Nevada. That's our response. Taking the lives of folks we don't know on the other side of the world. No connection, no responsibility. Just a fucking game - figures on a screen some Washington General says kill and the geek pushes the button. What's the difference? Where's the law in all of this? Remote fucking control - no responsibility. It's fucked!"

[?]

[He's talking about the War on Terror. It's a, um, a long story]

[Clan rivalry?]

[In a sense. Religion, extremism, intolerance]

[Your planet is very violent]

[Yes, we are. But there are many good things, too. Don't forget that]

[Women?]

Andrea, again, stifles a smile. [And hot aliens]

[I have an enviro-suit. It regulates my body temperature quite well]

[But, not mine] She, glances sideways at me, briefly.

[You wish to mate?]

[Not here. Not anywhere. We are watched, day and night]

"Some big Washington General's coming here," the Colonel continues. "They're not Generals. All they do is lobby congress for more money, new toys, bigger empires for themselves. You have that on your planet, Governor? Ambition? Self serving 'A' holes?"

He looks at me, waiting for an answer. Andrea pretends to translate, looking down at her screen with little sidelong glances. She looks up and says, "He says he understands 'ambition'."

"I bet he does, Lieutenant," the Colonel replies. He stares at Andrea and myself, curiously, a slight smile breaking out on his face. "You heard from your husband, recently?"

Andrea is momentarily thrown, pauses, before replying. "No, sir. I, uh, I understand, from a mutual friend, he's in a relationship with someone over there."

"Ah, and this 'mutual friend' would be his best buddy who just happens to be finishing his tour, right?"

"Um, something like that."

"I, bet. I know how these things work. He comes back to comfort his buddy's jilted wife. Hell, I heard that story more times I've seen a cactus in Arizona."

[You never mentioned this] I type.

[You never asked]

"He shows your photo to his buddy. Tells him how hot you are, and the buddy thinks, hmm. He's in a Moslem country - you touch a woman over there and they come for you with knives. All he's got to think about is the hot wife of his buddy."

"We had problems before he got posted, sir. He had other women."

"Ah, damn, I can't see why, Lieutenant. I'll tell you plain, I sure as hell wouldn't be looking at other babes with you waiting for me at home."

"Thank, you, sir," Andrea says, blushing furiously, and looking down at the computer. "Sometimes, ah, you don't know someone until..."

"Ain't that the truth. Say, you translate pretty fast. If I didn't know better, I'd say the Governor understands more than what he's saying. That, right, Governor? You learn pretty fast? Don't say nothing, now, those spooks are watching. Just hear this. Son, you're going to be an exhibit. Some will think you're a fraud, others, that you're a dangerous alien terrorist. They'll want to poke and prod, interrogate, get you to tell them what makes that thing of yours fly. You come as a visitor, a Governor of another planet light years away, and all they can think of doing is either put you in a straight jacket, send you to Gitmo, extract whatever they can out of you, then what? Put you in a nice condo in Reno? I don't think so. You made a big mistake, son, coming here. We would've welcomed you with brass bands and street parades, once, but not now. This country is so damned afraid of its own shadow, they see threats everywhere. Those damned terrorists are winning, why? Because, we've surrendered our values to them, got down to their own level. We stood for good, honest principles, once, but not now."

"This General, sir..." Andrea starts to say.

"Advance guard, Lieutenant. Washington General - Joint Chiefs - bringing some State Department flunky and some expert. Governor, don't let them into that shuttle," he lowers his voice. "Their geeks get hold of that, then it's game over."

"He says he won't, sir," Andrea answers.

"Damn, you're good, Lieutenant. I didn't see the Governor type anything, yet, there you go again, answers straight away. You better be careful when the General gets here. They spot that, they'll smell a rat. You don't want to get on a plane to Gitmo, nosiree. They think the Governor understands all we say, he'll be on the next plane out."

Andrea teaches at a nearby University. She has a double major in languages and sociology. She specializes in Russian and speaks several other languages fluently. She is also an Air Force reservist with the rank of Lieutenant. Andrea is often called on for specialist assignments with the military and this is one of them. Quite who she is supposed to report to is a little confusing, for there are, now, several organizations involved in my situation.

The base - which is primarily for testing new technology on their flying craft - is roughly divided in two by a security fence. The Colonel controls what happens on this side of the fence, whereas, on the other side - where the testing and research takes place - security guards, employed by one of their secret organizations, patrol. Through the fence, I can see a number of their air machines and many large buildings. One of them holds my Privateer - I know not which.

This is a military area and such, there's an 'air exclusion zone' around extending some micropecs out. The Air Force provides air security and, to this end, there are a number of patrol craft, fighters and rotorcraft to guide away any intruding air machines. The personnel for this task are housed on this side of the fence and include pilots and ground and support staff all with their own leaders, but broadly under the overall authority of the Colonel. It seems a clunky and inefficient arrangement, but, Andrea explains, it is an historical and traditional system and everyone is comfortable with it.

I cannot get through the fence without special authorization. The Colonel's men guard the gate, and, on the other side, guards in ground vehicles drive around the perimeter. Cameras observe who comes and goes and there are other cameras along the fence and outside some of the buildings. Artificial lights remain on during the short night outside lighting up strategic areas. Andrea says there is always activity happening through the night in some of the buildings. At night I have taken to walking along this fence while Andrea is asleep in her quarters. My waking period is three times as long as these people, which leaves me plenty of time to wander about unaccompanied except for my two watchdogs, who always pad along somewhere behind. Most of the time, I forget about them, while I consider my options.

What the Colonel has told me has left me uneasy. It will occur to them soon, that if we had wanted to bathe their territory with beam weapons, we would have already done so. Their natural conclusion would likely be that we have nothing on board the light ship that will cause them harm. With this conclusion, their fear will disappear and there will be little to stop them treating me in whatever fashion they wish. None of that will involve the due deference normally accorded to a visiting, Sector Governor I'm sure. I need to get away back to Tvir in the light ship, maneuver back out past their single moon, and punch for home as fast as the light ship can handle.

Before I have even figured out how to escape, I'm thinking of how to deal with the 3 or 4 small surveillance vehicles that have moved in close to Tvir. We cannot maneuver without risking a collision that might damage some of the field antennas on the light ship. It would be a very long journey home if we had to rely on our small plasma maneuvering engines. Despite my repeated requests, they are still too close.

I have not slept for three of their days, and I'm starting to feel tired, when two ground vehicles arrive outside my quarters. One contains the Colonel and Andrea, the other, three strangers. One is dressed in a military, desert uniform. He is grey haired and wears a cap with four stars across it. The others wear open necked shirts and trousers. They file in and sit on chairs the other side of the table. Andrea sits besides me to 'translate' while the Colonel sits by the door by himself, clearly not worthy enough to sit with the other dignitaries.

'Four Stars' is the leader, and he sits in the middle. The one on the left places a small computer in front of him. 'Four Stars' has deep, skeptical eyes that he uses to stare fixedly at you. This, I'm sure, is meant to intimidate. A small, dishonest smile breaks across his face, as if a cat has spotted a bird with a broken wing. He introduces himself and the others with quick, authoritarian sentences that mostly defeat my understanding. I hear 'General', 'Doctor' and 'Charles.'

General asks my name and where I'm from, and Andrea answers on my behalf - respectfully, nervously. She has told me 'Lieutenants' are lower than bedbugs in their hierarchy.

"'Psschev?" says, General. He turns to the Colonel behind him. "What's that? Some place in Russia?" Then to Charles, he asks, "That sound Russian to you? Lieutenant, you're our language expert. Where the hell is this Psschev? Are we talking Russian?"

"No, sir," Andrea replies. "That's not Russian."

"You know, how, Lieutenant?" General asks.

"I speak Russian fluently, sir," Andrea tells him. I can detect the hint of resentment in her tone.

"Okay," General shrugs, unconvinced. "So you came here, how?"

"By ship. Faster than light travel, sir," Andrea shuffles.

"That possible?" he turns to Doctor.

"Einstein says it isn't, General."

"I don't care what Einstein says, what do you say?"

"They said the same thing about faster than sound, General. Then that Chuck Yeager proved them wrong. I guess we don't know for sure."

"Okay. Y'know, Yeager wasn't the first. It was that Nazi guy during World War Two. Yeager used German technology. Don't underestimate the Krauts, Doctor. They had all the answers, even back then. So, Chuck, you believe this guy?" General turned to the man on his right.

"If it's a space station up there, how the hell did they get it up there without us detected it? That's what scares the hell out of me, General. If they can get something that size up there, what's to stop them putting a few nukes in orbit? Damn, that scares me."

"So, what are you here for, Governor? Is this a friendly, diplomatic visit to cement trans-planet relations? Have you got an army up there ready to invade like that movie, Chuck, what was it?"

"'Independence Day'."

"Yeah, that's right. 'Independence Day.' That plane of yours. Are you going to send down a couple of hundred of them to shoot up our Air Force?"

"He says he's come in peace," Andrea answers for me, carefully and deliberately, as if she is translating my words.

"Does he now? Then, let us have a look at your craft? If your intentions are peaceful, let's see your technology?"

I type on my screen furiously, getting more and more angry, not helped by my tiredness. Andrea looks at me with a questioning expression, and I nod for her to proceed. "The Governor says, that his Privateer is private property and you have no right to interfere with it without his permission. He further states, you have no right to withhold his property. He, ah, demands it back, immediately."

The General leans back, glancing left and right at his colleagues. His look is cold and hard, and he stares back for an uncomfortably long time. "You want your aircraft?" he says. "Really? You land your machine on our territory - the territory of these United States - and you start making demands? Well, sir, last time I heard, this is our country and we are the ones who say what happens and what does not happen here. Are you hostile? How the hell is anyone going to determine that without seeing into that machine of yours? First, you're going to tell us what the hell you're doing here, where you really come from, and how the hell you got that space station into space - and I mean, the truth, not some bullshit about aliens, is that clear?"

Andrea swallows in fear. "Sir, the Governor, ah, says he has told you nothing but the truth."

"We'll see about that," he replies, menacingly. "Colonel," he continues. "You don't let this guy out of sight until we can figure out our next step. Lieutenant, I want you to stick to him like shit. I smell a Russian, and if the Russians have that kind of tech, I sure as hell want to know all about it."

"General," the man named Charles says. "Our information is, the Russians are just as much in the dark as we are."

"Yeah, yeah, you guys from the State Department swallow any shit. I tell you, I know a Russian when I see one. That thing in the hangar over there is one hell of a machine and, if the Russians can produce that, then this country is in for one hell of a time. I think we're finished here for now," he says, and stands. Andrea, leaps to her feet and salutes, as does the Colonel. He then marches out the door followed by his two companions, barely acknowledging the homage paid to him.

The Colonel looks worried, and pauses as the others walk back to their vehicle. He puts up his hand as Andrea tries to say something. "Lieutenant," he says, quietly. "We have a big problem. Give me time to figure a plan, okay?"

"Yes, sir," she tells him.

"Governor. Why the hell didn't you just tell him the bullshit he wanted? Tell him you're a Russian who wants to defect."

"Defective?" I say out loud.

"Huh!" he laughs. "Yes, damned 'defective'. Tell, me Governor. If you can somehow get on board that craft of yours, can you get it out of here?"

"Yes, Colonel."

"And nobody can touch you, right? I mean, missiles, guns, small arms..."

"No."

"No plane? An F-16, for instance. You can outrun an F-16?"

"Yes."

"You got weapons on board?"

"Yes."

"You could flatten the base, no?"

"Ah, yes," I hesitate. "If necessary."

"If, necessary, okay," he looks thoughtful, scratches his jaw. "I hope it doesn't come to that. Well, I think we'd better get you out of here before they come for you."

"Sir?" Andrea says, "what about you? They'll think..."

"I had a hand? Well, we have to figure that out, Lieutenant. In any case, I'm due for retirement. Dishonourable discharge? Well, maybe I don't give a shit, anymore. If I can go out preventing a travesty of justice, well, maybe that's what the good lord has in store, no? Rule of law, remember? You remember when we had the rule of law, ethical conduct? I kind of want to face my maker with a clear conscience. Lieutenant, you keep this guy safe until I can come up with a plan. Meanwhile, I'll have a word with the guard detail. They don't need to follow you around everywhere. Leave it to me."

"Thank you, Colonel," I tell him, and he waves me away with his hand, turns, and marches out the door.

"Well!" Andrea sighs when he has gone. "The Colonel's on your side. That's a turn up."

"What of you?" I ask. "If I get away, they will think you are guilty, also. I don't want people suffering on my behalf."

"Knock me out? Hell, you're 6.7, 6.8? What chance have I got?"

"I could never hurt you," I tell her in shock. "I'm not that strong, anyway. Your gravity is more than I'm used to. The enviro-suit compensates, but I still don't think I could hit you hard, I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," she laughs. "It's kind of gratifying. We could wrestle a little? Build your muscles up a bit?"

"I could not wrestle you for long," I explain, "before thoughts of mating cross my mind."

"Haha, don't rush it, sugar," she winks. "You're more transparent than a drunk in a bar. I'm going to miss our lessons," she sighs. "Somehow, lecturing in Russian to a bunch of weeny undergrads won't have the same appeal."

"It is a pity they have so many cameras."

"And what would you do if they were turned off?" she says, moving closer.

"Mate? Isn't it obvious?"

"Mate? Mate? Not, 'make love' or even 'fuck'? 'Mate' sounds like a Biology lesson." She takes my hand and guides it under the table. Placing it on her thigh, she whispers, "you have such a soft touch, for an alien. Y'know, I imagine how we would do it, what you look like without that damned suit of yours. I'm in my quarters and I wish you were there with me."

"You're wet," I tell her.

"Haha," she laughs. "You're hard!"

"How could I not be?"

She sighs, deeply. "I want to kiss you. Do they kiss on your world?"

"Of course. I have seen your movies. Everything seems to be exactly the same. I guess we evolved after the same fashion, modified by our environments. Our genetic code is exactly the same as your's with the usual variations, according to..."

"Really?" she sighs, again, distractedly. "God, I wish we had a little more privacy. I've become a little slut, lately."

"Really, You have taken other men?"

"No, that's not what I mean. I mean, I've been thinking about us a lot, actually. Like, what we would do if we had some privacy."

"Ah. I have also been thinking. I also think about us ma ... ah..."

"Fucking?"

"That. How I would fuck you for three of your hours..."

"What? Three hours?" she gasps. "you can keep it up for that long? Oh, rub faster!"

"I recover quickly!"

"All that time on a space ship with nothing but your hand? Jesus, honey, slow down, you'll make me pop."

"First you want me to speed up..."

"Just, be gentle, okay? I don't want to come with a damned camera in my face. Just give me a little something for later, okay?"

"So, you will use your hand when you are alone?"

"Oh, shit, be direct, huh? Of course I do myself. What's a girl going to do all on her own when she's horny?"

"Okay!" I tell her, and try to rub her pussy the way she wants. Eventually, I move closer and whisper in her ear. "I, too, want to kiss you," I say.

"Oh, babe, stop, now please," she gasps. "Damn, I'm going to miss you. You got any more hot aliens to send back?" she asks, panting. "Pick a nice, gentle one, okay?"

"I can think of one or two," I tell her, "who might be agreeable. I'm not sure, though, whether they will want to come, after what I tell them."

"Yeah, hell, who would? Well, maybe we can Skype one another? Do you have real fast communications? I suppose radio waves would take, like, about twenty years..."

"Radio waves would, yes," I agree. "Unless, of course, you can enclose those radio waves in a beam that can traverse space/time..."

"Really? You can do that?" she shakes with excitement. "Well, I suppose if you can travel faster than the speed of light, why the hell not? Imagine Skyping 20 light years."

"Ah, but you would need me to leave a communicator. Your people would seize it and learn its secrets. Particularly, the power source. Once you discover that, your people can do what they like. Everything becomes possible."

"Then, I guess it's 'what stays on tour'," she says, wistfully "A space ship that passes in the night. I think I'd better go."