My Journal

By Harriman Nelson

5

I pulled out my reserve bottle of Glenlivet from inside my desk drawer after Lee’s call, and poured out a shot.

“I don’t know about you, Lad," I told Chip,  "but I need this. Help yourself."

“Thank you, but I’d better not.”

“If it makes you feel any better, Lee imbibed a little when necessary. Even though a captain is always on duty.”

“Well, if he did,” Chip said, and poured himself some of the amber courage.

And it was courage we needed.

History was going to be made soon that would affect our world, for better or worse.

“Sparks,” I said into the intercom, “pipe the Pentagon’s communication center directly to my videophone.”

 "Aye, sir."

And so after Chip returned to the control room, I began to go through all the data that had been accumulated, the many variables a tangled web of possible frequencies we’d been using. Even old computer binary codes. The problem was that the aliens hadn’t once said anything for us to figure out.

Suddenly my monitor turned on as I’m sure they did throughout the boat.

It was the Oval Office. Lee, of course, had showered and changed. I was surprised he wasn’t wearing his eye patch, but then, it might have been stained with ripe tomato.  Or, perhaps this was just a signal to everyone and to the aliens that he wasn’t hiding anything. But then, what did I know. Perhaps he was just tired of looking like a pirate.

“…My fellow Americans, Allies, and peoples around the world,” he began, “I want you share in this, my message to the aliens surrounding our planet…

 “To the aliens hovering over our planet: For the past few days, after our repeated attempts to make contact, it’s becoming apparent that you don’t wish to communicate with us. I very greatly doubt you haven’t been able to translate any of our many greetings or monitor our communications.  My question is, why ignore them? You’ve come all this way from outside our galaxy, only to surround our home and bully our citizens with fear. Your actions may not be intentional, however, it is hard to believe that you would totally ignore us for no reason except one of hostility.

“Why hide your intentions when we can speak, facing each other as civilized beings. I will personally guarantee that no harm will come to your representatives in such a meeting. It is our fervent hope that we may end this stalemate between us. We’re waiting.”

With that, he nodded, and the image faded.

“…It remains to be seen,” the reporter said from outside the White House gate, “if the aliens will take the president up on his plea, but already you can see the National Guard is stationed around the perimeter of the White House grounds with their heavy armament facing outward, to insure that the aliens, should they come, are protected against anyone trying to take things into their own hands and…look! Up there! They’re coming!”

A shuttle of some sort, descended from the black sky, a blue green haze encircling it.  The lawn lights were on, and it was easy to see Lee, surrounded again by armed military guards and Secret Service agents, approaching the craft as it touched down. Lee motioned his bodyguards to back off, and he moved forward alone.

My heart was racing. Putting himself directly in the line of fire like that, only I should be used to that by now. I think the whole world must have been watching, waiting, finding it hard to breathe.

A ramp extruded from the craft, and a hatch opened, and an entourage of blueish humanoids with protruding foreheads, half bald skulls, the backs of which flowed long pink hair. They all had yellow cat like eyes and marched down the ramp, garbed in what looked like metal military armament, weapons at the ready.

Lee’s armed escorts began to move forward to protect him, but he only had to give them a negative nod to make them back off again.

“Oh gawd, oh, gawd, Skipper what are you doing,” Ski moaned from his console, ignoring the fact that the term belonged technically to Chip now.

“Steady men,” Chip ordered.

Lee moved again toward the visitors, his arms outstretched,  showing he wasn’t armed.

The aliens suddenly parted and raised their arms in salute to one of them, striding down the ramp in between them.

As the alien stepped foot on the lush green grass of earth, he, she, it, whatever, spoke.

“You… are…leader?”

“I’m the president of the United States,” Lee answered, “if that means anything to you.”

“Not ruler of Earth?”

“No. Earth has many nations, and most elect their leaders.”

Suddenly a smaller alien, garbed in a shimmering robe which barely hid the fact that it was female, emerged from the spaceship and hurried to the speaker, whispering in what sounded like musical notes and mechanical grunts and clicks.

“My…what is the word,” the first alien said, "d..da...daughter…says you are the Earthman that es-caped the Centaurs on their scout-ing out-post.”

“Yes. One of them.”

“They claimed you were planning to in-vade their world.”

“They were wrong. And we tried to explain that we had and have no intention of invading any world.”

“You have…a lot of…of…”

The daughter whispered to him again.

“De-bris in orbit,” the alien said.

“Yes. Afraid so. Look,  I’ve been answering some of your questions, now I have a few of my own. Who are you, what's your name? Where are you from, and what do you want?”

“Na-name? What…is…name?”

“What we call ourselves to distinguish us from others of our species. I’m Lee.”

“You lie. Your…na-m-e…is Pres-i-dent.”

“That’s the position I hold. My name is Lee Nelson-Crane. What my family and friends call me.”

“Ah. I begin…to…under-stand. I am 972, captain of this fleet, from the planet Mystriclia. You may know it by another…name. This,” he indicated one of the muscular guards nearest him, “is my…what you would call Lieu…Lieu-ten-ent, or first officer, 378. My daughter,” he indicated the female, is 734.”

The Lt. scowled as the female giggled and studied Lee. Almost as if she were appraising him.

As a first course for dinner or  for sex, I couldn’t tell.

“We’re not used to using numbers for names, Captain. Your daughter speaks with a very pretty melodic voice, so for now, for here, how about I refer to her as Melody, or maybe Lyra, after a constellation named for a harp. A musical instrument.”

She whispered something to her father.

“She is…agree-able. Do you wish to give me a name?”

“I think Captain is probably best, considering. Protocol and all that.”

“Pro-to-col?”

Melody’ translated again.

“Ah. Yes. We too, have pro-to-col.”

Then Lee cut to the chase.

“Why are you here, Captain? What is it you seek?”

“El-e-ments in your great waters. You planet has an abundance of them and the small bi-o-log-ics inhabiting them. Too small to see without mag..mag-if-I-ca-tion.”

“Sea water? You want salt? As in sodium chloride? Minerals? Algae and the like?”

“Whatever…you call them. Our world…is in need of."

“What happened to your world that you need them?”

“Our seas have...died…we need to replenish them with…the 'source'.”

The source? Had these aliens visited or lived here before?
“With your technology, you can’t manufacture the elements, like salt?”

“They are not…the same."

"Why hang around in orbit? Why not just ask us for some?”

“You might not have agreed.”

“Are you the cause of the atmospheric interference with our communications?”

“Yes. Unavoidable…we waited…to see how you reacted to our presence. Waited for a reason to destroy you.”

“You wanted to kill us?”

“Only to remove you from interfering with our harvesting…salt.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“It is against our law to kill without due reason.”

“Sensible of you…so, Captain, just how much sea water and salt do you need? Perhaps we can come to some kind of trade agreement.”

The alien looked confused until the daughter explained to him.

“Primitive. Bart-er-ing. We bartered once. Long ago. Before we learned to take what we want.”

“Our scientists, here, and from other nations, will have to determine how best to supply you. Salt from the oceans is not an unlimited resource, but if managed and rationed correctly it could still maintain our world and help yours."

“That is not a true eye,” the alien pointed to Lee's prostheses. "Did you lose it in battle?”

“No, an explosion.”

“You have not learned to re-gen-er-ate your body parts?”

“No, I guess we’re a bit primitive.”

“If we give you this know-ledge, even re-gen-er-ate some of your damaged and lost body parts, will that be barter enough for exchange of salt?”

“I can’t speak for other nations, but I’m sure the United States congress may come to a preliminary agreement with you.”

“What is cong-ress?”

“A body of  United States earthmen that approve or reject policy.

“You do not make all decisions for your U-nit-ed States?”

“No, not all. In fact, very few. I command the armed forces, advise, consent, veto congressional bills, and I initiate possible treaties with other countries, including your world, I think.”

“If you or-dered an attack us, they would?”

“Yes.”

“But you ordered them not to.”

“And they didn’t.”

“You ‘are’ leader.”

“Here, maybe, but not over the whole world.”

“Yet, your world listens to you, my daughter says. She has studied Earth, monitored…conversations…of those our ships could translate for us. We…learn quickly. But there is much we don’t understand.”

“Do you understand that we mean you no harm?”

“We understand.”

“Is there any way you can lessen the atmospheric interference while we arrange a meeting with the scientists?”

“I will… order some of my fleet to pro-ceed to a higher orbit. But your de-bris is…is…diff-i-cult to man-u-ver around.”

“Thank you. Would you and your entourage like to stay here awhile and get to know us better? I can arrange accommodations in the White House.”

“I must re-turn to my ship and communicate with our ruler that we have come to an un... un-der-stand-ing. I will leave my Lt. as my liaison.”

The girl pulled on her father’s sleeve.

“And my daughter. I  hope that she will not…pes-ter you too much. But is hard not to de-ny her anything."

“A problem, I’m sure, for most fathers,” Lee said smiling.

The girl smiled back. The Lt. was emotionless. But did I detect a look of animosity when Lee extended his arm to her, and they began to walk back toward the White House together after the spaceship's shuttle took off and headed back up into orbit.

As promised most of the atmospheric interference lessened as several of the spaceships headed to higher orbits. And CNN had the first of the special reports about the possible new treaty with the Mystriclians. Another first for history.

I had a lot of questions. Including just how trustworthy they were, and just why did they call our salt the ‘source’. No doubt Lee was curious too. Hopefully ‘Melody’ and the Lt. could explain.

 There was no end to the explanations by theorists on TV.

Frankly I didn’t buy the ‘aliens were here first’ theory, nor that they’d visited before.

But what other explanation was there?

I decided to leave Lee a message to call me when he had a free moment and placed a call to Emmie who had arrived back home.(Patterson was already enroute via the Flying Sub to pick Riley up.) As I’d guessed, she’d been watching the broadcast with Mrs. C.

Both women were relieved that neither Lee nor Earth had been blown to bits.

“Well,” Mrs. C. said, “I sure hope Lee’s only being polite to her.”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s all it is,” Emmie said then, “perhaps you ought to talk to him, Harry. I mean…he’s only just met the girl…”

“Good grief, you’re reading more into that gesture than there is,” I said. “It’s called diplomacy. And he was pretty darn good out there, defusing what could have been a very bad situation, and gaining what could be a new alliance, if not new technology. Think of it, organ regeneration!”

“As long as he isn’t the first to try it,” Mrs. C. said. “I said it before, and I’ll say it again, even after all of this. I’m finding it hard to trust them.”

“You’ll be glad to know then,” I said, “that Lee hasn’t cancelled the military’s full alert status.”

“Ah, you see! He doesn’t trust them either!”

“Trust has to be earned. Lee knows it, and I think the aliens do to.”

“That Lt. didn’t look too happy when the girl wanted to stay down here. I think he’s jealous of Lee.”

“So, you noticed that glance as well,” I mused.

“I didn’t notice anything unusual,” Emmie said, "you’re imagining things.”

God, I hoped so. That’s all Lee needed, a jealous alien. A powerful, jealous, and armed, alien. And what was worse, a potentially powerful protective alien father up in orbit. Wars have been fought over less.

Good grief, I was jumping to conclusions. Ridiculous conclusions. Conclusions I hoped the press wouldn’t make.

I was wrong.

.