Misha: I forgot to mention last time that your comments about not being able to have the "it" discussion in Spanish were really interesting. How would similar derogatory remarks be made in Spanish? Would you use a word for "thing", or "object", or "animal", or something like that?
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
August 9, 1947, 2:00 p.m.
Proctor residence
"Open it!"
Anthony's face was shining as he handed Dee his present; he was so excited he was practically panting like a puppy. Dee accepted the package with a smile, once again feeling the power cord just under the bright wrapping paper. All around lay the considerable litter of paper from her other gifts—all her other gifts, because Anthony had insisted she open his last, saying something about having to take it down in the basement after it was opened.
The two dozen or so partygoers leaned forward in expectation. There had already been a good deal of excitement over two of the gifts. The first was Rachel's kitten, a tiny, striped grey tabby now being passed from hand to hand so often that its four little paws had yet to touch the floor. Thank goodness it didn't seem to be the type of cat who liked to hide under the bed. And then there was Mac's gift, which initially had left everyone puzzled.
"A hammer?" Mary Laura had asked quizzically, peering over everyone else's heads to see inside the just-opened box.
"A saw?" Peter had said, with unmistakable envy. The tools were brand new and shiny, and made no sense until Mac explained.
"You've always wanted a tree house," he piped up from behind the children. "I was going to just build you one, but I figured you'd like to help. Pick your tree, and I'll teach you how to draw plans and build it."
"Oh, Mac," Dee had said, plopping the box down on the sofa beside her, where it was instantly set upon by every boy in the room, and running to give Mac a crushing hug. "Thank you! That's wonderful! We can spend the rest of the summer doing that!"
"It'll take longer than that," Mac warned. "Probably into fall. It'll be a big job. But," he whispered in her ear so only she could hear, "I thought you might need something to take your mind off….everything that's been going on."
Good idea, Dee had thought, hugging him again. Every time she tried to put "everything" out of her mind, something like Deputy Valenti showing up would happen. Valenti had left without any apparent problem, but her Mama wouldn't say what he'd wanted. "Never you mind," Emily had said, steering Dee back to her party. "Just enjoy your party and leave him to us."
"Which tree are you going to pick?" Rachel had asked, with a doubtful glance toward the tools. The girls would love the tree house, but probably none of them wanted to actually help build it. The boys, on the other hand, were practically drooling. And Anthony had smiled broadly, no doubt thinking exactly what she was thinking: Once her tree house was finished, they could use the same plans to build one in that wonderful tree in his backyard with the stout branch which led right to his window. Unfortunately, Ernie Hutton, who had behaved himself with effort for the rest of the party, intercepted that look and went to town with it.
"Awww, DeeDee and Anthony are gonna make the tree house!" he singsonged, as every head turned his way. "Anthony and DeeDee, sittin' in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G! First comes love, then comes ouch!"
"That will be quite enough, young man," Emily had said firmly, with a death grip on his shoulder. "Behave." And Ernie had sunk into a sullen silence, contenting himself with making smooching motions behind everyone's backs.
Now Dee carefully unwrapped Anthony's present, taking her time with it. It was the last of the vast pile, and she wanted to make it last as long as possible. Her audience, however, didn't share that perception. They hovered over her, clucking impatiently until the paper finally fell away to reveal an odd pair of objects: A large wooden bowl, painted black and studded with holes, and what looked like the base of a lamp, with a bulb and a cord, but no cover for the bulb. Everyone stared in silence for several seconds before Anthony answered the question in everyone's mind.
"It's a planetarium."
When this announcement was met with confused silence, he elaborated, "You turn on the light, and the light shines through the holes in the bowl onto the ceiling and makes the patterns of the constellations."
"Neat!" Dee exclaimed. "Now I see why it goes in the basement. Let's go!"
She hopped off the couch and made a beeline for the basement door, Anthony and the rest of the partygoers close behind. Once downstairs, Dee turned on the one bare bulb overhead, pulled a small table into the middle of the room, set the planetarium in the middle of it, and snaked the cord toward an outlet. Everyone assembled around the table, some casting nervous glances around the dark basement as Anthony reached for the bulb on the ceiling.
"Plug it in, and then I'll turn this off," he told her. "Everybody look at the ceiling!" Dee inserted the plug, the light bulb under the black bowl glowed, and Anthony turned off the ceiling bulb.
Suddenly there was a sharp *pop*, a sizzling sound, and the basement was plunged into darkness. Mary Laura gave a muffled scream, and Emily could be heard over the excited babble of voices. "Calm down, everyone. I'm going to turn the light on."
The light flicked on, making everyone blink. Anthony's face was stricken as he inspected his present, the others crowding around. The light bulb had shattered, and the socket was blackened.
"Let me get another bulb," Emily suggested, skipping up the stairs behind them.
"It looks like the whole socket blew," Anthony said despondently. "Maybe it was the wrong voltage or something. It was really pretty when I tested it," he added wistfully.
"Neat, Evans," a sarcastic voice said from the back of the crowd. "We all came down here to watch you blow up the stars!"
Ernie Hutton tittered at his own joke, and several of the children smiled in spite of themselves. Never one to neglect an audience, Ernie seized the moment. "I know!" he said excitedly. "It was the aliens who did it! I bet you've got their home planet on that doohickey, and they didn't want all of us to know!"
More laughing. Anthony was too crestfallen over his failed gift to spit back.
<Such a disagreeable child,> commented a voice in Dee's head.
<Tell me about it,> Dee grumbled silently, scowling at Ernie. <Now do you see why I said he was an idiot?>
<I never disputed your diagnosis.>
"Don't let Evans anywhere near the sun!" Ernie was chortling. "He'll blow that up too!" More laughter. "Hey, maybe that was the 'spaceship' out on the ranch. It was Evans blowing something up!"
<Don't,> warned the voice in Dee's head as her hands began to twitch. <I am not familiar with human birthdate customs, but I would warrant brawling isn't one of them. Don't spoil your own festival.>
<Party,> Dee corrected crossly, <and I think this numbskull has pretty much spoiled it already.>
<Nonsense,> Brivari said calmly. <There is a better way to handle charming individuals like this. Your mother is returning. Insert the new lamp and activate it.>
<But Anthony said….>
<Do it,> Brivari insisted.
As if on cue Emily appeared, bulb in hand. "Now there," she said brightly, as Ernie wisely shushed at her approach. "Let's try this one."
"Thank you, Mrs. Proctor, but it won't work," Anthony said sadly. "More than just the bulb is ruined."
"Try it anyway," Dee suggested.
Anthony shook his head. "I know it won't work."
"I think it will," Dee insisted.
"I built this," Anthony said somewhat peevishly. "I know what will work and what won't."
Emily hovered, bulb in hand, uncertain of whether to press the issue. Dee understood Anthony's reluctance; he already felt foolish in front of the entire neighborhood, and he didn't want to compound that by failing a second time. And as she couldn't exactly stand here and explain that there was an alien lurking nearby who could make his planetarium work, Dee plucked the bulb out of her mother's hands, screwed it into the base, and turned it on.
To everyone but Dee's astonishment, the bulb burst to life. Emily smiled and turned off the ceiling light. Gasps of surprise filled the room as the stars projected on the ceiling blazed brilliantly, glowing much more brightly than one would expect from an ordinary light bulb.
Smiling broadly, Dee stared at the twinkling stars on her basement ceiling, listening to the oohs and aahs of her party guests. The light from the "stars" was so bright that she could see people's faces. Anthony's jaw had dropped; Ernie Hutton was scowling to beat the band. Dee watched with no small amount of satisfaction as Ernie slunk to the back of the group, thoroughly put out that Anthony's present was not only working, but working spectacularly. She slipped closer to Anthony and leaned her head in toward his.
"It's beautiful, Anthony. Thank you so much."
"But….but…it doesn't look like this!" he protested in a whisper. "Your mother got a regular bulb, just like I had, and it was nowhere near this bright last night. There's no way this could happen!"
Dee shrugged slightly. "You can figure out why it's so bright later. Let's just enjoy it." <Thanks, Brivari,> Dee added silently.
No answer. But five "stars" on the ceiling from three different constellations began to glow just a little brighter, making the shape of a "V".
******************************************************
3 p.m.
Copper Summit, Arizona
"Carl! Throw the ball!"
Malik paused with the basketball in his hands as the neighborhood boys stood looking at one another, wondering why he was hesitating. He had joined the children for a game of basketball to take his mind off Amar's continuing absence, but now he spotted him in the distance, walking up the street toward the house, the faint infrared signature surrounding his shape a dead giveaway that that shape was no human.
Swinging around, Malik sent the basketball soaring through the air. It dropped neatly through the hoop to a chorus of cheers. "I have to go," Malik/Carl announced to his disappointed fans. "Thanks for the game."
One of the boys glanced toward the house. "You and Tom had a fight, didn't you?" he asked, watching Tom—Amar—climb the front porch steps. "I heard him yelling yesterday. What was he saying, anyway?"
"He was just angry," Malik said, smoothly deflecting the conversation away from the fact that Amar had shouted in Antarian for all the neighborhood to hear. "I should go see if he feels better."
"Why?" one of the children muttered. "He's always angry anyway."
Malik smiled slightly as he tossed the basketball to one of the children. Amar disliked children even more than he disliked cats, and the feeling was generally mutual.
The boys resumed their game as Malik waved goodbye and headed for the house, using his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face as he walked. Earth's summer heat at this latitude had taken some getting used to when he had first arrived, and playing basketball under the huge yellow sun didn't help. But he had been badly in need of a distraction, and he found basketball an interesting challenge, what with the bouncing, turning, and throwing required. Much different than football, where one merely grabbed the ball and ran. Boring.
He found Amar in the kitchen making a sandwich. "Where the hell have you been?" Malik demanded.
"Out," Amar answered shortly.
"Got that right," Malik retorted. "Since yesterday afternoon."
"Doesn't look like you missed me much," Amar observed, "what with you off playing some stupid game."
"I spent a good deal of time trying to explain your absence to the Leader, and I'm not sure I succeeded."
"What did you tell him?"
"That you were looking for a new source of materials."
"Quite true," Amar said approvingly. "This world is so backwards, it's getting harder and harder to find much of anything."
"You and I both know you weren't out looking for materials."
"We do?" Amar plopped his sandwich on a plate, which Malik promptly snatched out of his hands.
"Don't bullshit me, Amar," Malik said severely. "You went over there, didn't you? To Roswell. You disobeyed the Leader's orders, ignored all common sense and went there, didn't you? Didn't you?"
" 'Bullshit'? Listen to you," Amar said, shaking his head in disgust. "You sound like them. You look like them. Why are you such a mess, anyway?" he added, staring at Malik's sweaty shirt. "You don't have to be."
"They'd notice if I didn't sweat," Malik said impatiently. "And quit changing the subject!"
"Heavens, we wouldn't want them to think you're different, now would we?" Amar asked sarcastically, reaching for the plate. Malik moved his hand back further.
"Answer me, or I'll go to the Leader and tell him I covered for you."
"That would get you in trouble too.
"I don't care," Malik said flatly.
Amar sighed. "Okay—I did go to Roswell. There. Happy? Can I have my food now?"
Malik stared as Amar snatched his plate back, amazed that he'd actually gotten a confession in anything under thirty minutes. "Well?" he demanded. "You went there—and what happened? I take it you didn't get captured, or we wouldn't be having this charming conversation right now."
"Obviously," Amar said, sitting down at the kitchen table. "Sorry to disappoint you, but you're still stuck with me."
"What happened?" Malik repeated.
"Nothing happened," Amar said between mouthfuls. "You were right—it's impossible to get in, get to them, and get them out without being captured ourselves. We'll have to wait for help."
Malik's eyes narrowed. It was unusual for Amar to make peace with common sense so quickly. Amar must have realized this because his expression turned earnest, and the sarcasm disappeared from his voice.
"Look, I know it was stupid to go there. But I had to know if there was any way, any way at all. We're so close....it's so hard to be this close and not be able to get to them. Now that I've gotten a good long look at the place, I know I'll just have to live with it. Believe me, I don't want to be captured. I saw the shape they were in, and I'd die first before I let myself wind up like that. And thanks for covering for me," he added as Malik stared at him suspiciously. "I really appreciate it. If it's any consolation, there's one good thing that did come out of this little trip—I found a new source of raw material on the way home. I brought some back; if it works, I'll go get more. I should bring that to the Leader and let him know I'm back."
Malik watched as Amar calmly put his plate in the sink and left the kitchen as though the entire matter were settled. And it was…..wasn't it? Wasn't it better this way, letting Amar have a good look around and realizing that there was nothing that only the two of them could accomplish? He might calm down now, might actually gain some perspective by the time assistance arrived.
Standing in front of the sink, Malik pondered this for several minutes before shaking his head.
"Nope," he muttered under his breath. "That was too easy."
******************************************************
8:30 p.m.
Proctor residence
David Proctor joined his wife on the back porch steps, sitting down beside her in the warm evening breeze as she watched Dee and Mac debating the merits of various trees as platforms for treehouses while Dee's new kitten gamboled about their feet. The air was sultry, the cicadas were buzzing, and to the west the sun was beginning to set just a little earlier than it had been, reminding everyone that autumn was coming.
"You throw one hell of a party," David said, smiling.
"We survived," Emily said dryly. She had her chin resting on her drawn up knees, a favorite position of Dee's. "Now just give me a month to clean up the house."
David shrugged. "They had a good time. I don't think Dee's ever had a big party like that. She enjoyed it."
"She had it coming. It's just too bad I had to have a reminder of that right in the middle of everything."
"Don't let Valenti get to you," David said. "He still doesn't have anything, or else he wouldn't be standing on our front porch making nice."
"He has more than you know," Emily said quietly.
"Meaning?"
"Meaning I didn't want to go into everything with Mac standing there," Emily explained. "He's been through so much already, what with the Army basically kidnapping him and all." She turned to look at David, who was watching her closely. "Valenti saw us the night we got the pods, David. He followed us to the creek and saw us putting them in the car."
"Are you sure?" David asked, frowning.
"I'm sure. There were too many details. He got the date right, the name of the creek right, and the fact that they were in a culvert. I guess we didn't cover our tracks as well as we thought we did."
David digested this in silence for a moment. "Well…we knew he was watching us."
"He wasn't just watching us—he was following us," Emily corrected. "There's a difference."
"If he saw us, then why didn't he stop us?"
"That's the really frightening part," Emily said, hugging her legs as though she were cold. "He wasn't the only one following us. He said…..he said an alien stopped him from intervening. An alien who didn't want him to interfere with whatever we were doing."
"And what makes him think he saw an alien?"
"I don't know," Emily said impatiently. "I couldn't exactly ask him what it looked like without tipping my hand that I knew what he was talking about, now could I?"
"No, I suppose not," David sighed. "I guess it makes sense. That other alien did show up here the very next day. Perhaps that's how they knew the pods were here."
"That's what bothers me," Emily said earnestly, shifting on the step to face her husband directly. "We're being watched David, followed—and not just by our own people. Here we are, all worried about the Army, and there's this whole other faction out there watching us just as avidly. We left to get those pods in the middle of the night—the middle of the night—and already we know a nosy Sheriff's deputy and an alien were on our tail, and we had no idea. Who else is watching us?" she asked, glancing around as if she expected people to start popping out of the bushes. "How can we know? I had no idea we were leading a parade when we left that night. It's just….creepy to think about it. I feel like there's this giant bulls eye painted on our house...on us. On all of us."
David put his arm around his wife and pulled her close, rubbing her back in silence for a long moment before speaking again.
"Do you want me to ask Brivari to leave?"
"No. Maybe. I don't know," Emily anguished, returning to her chin-on-the-knees position. "I'm willing to help them, I really am. I just don't like being a target."
"If we help them, we are a target," David said gently. "I'm afraid the one goes with the other."
"I know, I know," Emily sighed. "I'm sorry. I know I sound like a whiner. Valenti just really floored me when he told me that, and I think he saw it too."
"He still doesn't have anything on us," David reminded her. "That's precisely why he's coming to us directly. He has no evidence."
"And what about the other aliens?" Emily asked. "As if it's not bad enough to have humans watching our every move, now we find out aliens are watching our every move."
"There was only one human watching us," David reminded her, squeezing her shoulder, "and he's not getting anywhere. And there was only one alien, who didn't hurt us, who helped us from the sounds of things. No one's seen or heard from the other aliens in almost a month. I doubt they even know Brivari's here, or they would have shown up by now. They probably think he's still captive."
"But they'll figure it out," Emily said faintly, hugging her knees. "Eventually, they'll figure it out. They figured it out before."
"It's not us they're after," David reminded her.
"Maybe not. But we could easily get caught in the crossfire."
"I know how that goes," David murmured.
"David," Emily said slowly, "what if Valenti's right? What if we have bitten off more than we can chew?"
David rubbed his wife's back a bit more before answering. "Then we'll cross that bridge the same way we cross all the other bridges in life—if and when we come to it."
******************************************************
August 10, 1947, 0300 hours
Eagle Rock Military Base
"Hey, Treyborn! Treyborn!"
Private Treyborn stirred from his waking stupor to glance in Private Walker's direction. There were many people who didn't understand how horses could sleep standing up until they'd had the experience of guard duty, hours on end spent standing, sitting, or walking in the same place. While it was against regulations to actually sleep on guard duty, most soldiers learned to get mighty close while still doing a passable imitation of wakefulness. Kind of like he used to do in English class.
"What is it?" Treyborn asked.
"It's back!" Walker said jubilantly.
"What's back?"
"The dog! Look!"
Treyborn walked to the window in the nearest of the double doors and peered out. Brilliant lights flooded the area outside the doors, but he saw nothing until swung his eyes downward. The little mutt was there, up on his hind legs with his front paws on the doors, his big sad eyes begging for admittance.
"I scarfed some food from dinner," Walker grinned, reaching into his pocket and pulling out some bits of Army mystery meat wrapped in a napkin. "I had a feeling he'd be back." His hand reached for the door handle, but Treyborn's got there first.
"You're not gonna let that thing in again, are you?"
" 'Thing'?" Walker echoed. "I think you got your 'things' mixed up. The 'thing' is in there," he said severely, gesturing back toward the compound, "kept all nice and cushy and well fed by the good ol' US of A. The dog, on the other hand, is out there in the middle of the night, and it's hungry. And far more deserving of food, if you ask me."
"I didn't," Treyborn said, keeping his hand firmly on the handle. "No one asked either one of us anything. We're here to do our jobs, and our job is to guard this here entrance and not let anyone or anything in unless they got papers. You see any papers on that dog?"
"You've gotta be kidding me," Walker muttered. "Let go of the door, Treyborn."
"The Lieutenant won't like this," Treyborn warned, stubbornly clinging to the door.
Walker's eyes hardened. "What do I care what that shit of a Lieutenant likes?" he asked coldly. "That thing in there had me in a headlock. It was going to break my neck! And what does Lieutenant Alien do? Argue for my life? Hell, no! He stands there and tells the General that we attacked them, that we're to blame…."
"He didn't say nothin' about who was to blame!" Treyborn interrupted. "He's the only one left who saw what happened, that's all, and….."
"….and whose fault is that?" Walker interrupted. "I'll tell you whose—it's the aliens' fault, because they killed everyone else who saw what happened. It doesn't matter who shot first. Those monsters have killed almost a dozen of our guys!"
"And we killed two of theirs," Treyborn reminded him.
"What does that have to do with anything?" Walker demanded.
"Just through I'd throw that in there, seeing as how you're keepin' score an' all," Treyborn muttered.
"Oh, I'm keeping score all right," Walker said sourly. "I'm keeping track of which side everyone's on. I already know the General and Spade and the nurse are on the wrong side. But Cavitt's not. He's on the right side!"
"And he's gonna kick your backside if he finds out you're lettin' a dog in here," Treyborn pointed out. "If you're worried about 'sides', you'd best not get on the Major's bad side. He'll have a fit if he finds out we let anything bigger'n a beetle in here!"
"And what about you?" Walker continued, ignoring him. "Are you on the wrong side?"
"Shit, Walker, this isn't about 'sides'!" Treyborn objected. 'It's about doin' our jobs! Whatever that job is, whether it's lookin' after the alien like the nurse, or tellin' what really happened like Spade. Or keeping this damned door shut, like you and I are supposed to!"
"It's just a dog!" Walker argued, slapping the door for emphasis, causing the dog outside to jump back in alarm. "It's just a hungry little dog! What harm could it do to let it in, just in the entryway here, and give it something to eat?"
Walker's mien had shifted from angry to pleading, and Treyborn felt himself beginning to waver. He wasn't the type to stand up to people, especially not pushy people like Walker. But when it came to pushy, Cavitt trumped Walker any day, and Treyborn did not want to get in hot water with Cavitt.
"Look, Walker, I don't care about the dog. It's just that I don't want my ass whipped by Cavitt. Maybe you don't mind, but I do. And the minute Cavitt finds out about this, he'll….."
"He won't find out," Walker interrupted firmly. "How would he? He's gone at this hour. Anyone who checks on us just pokes their head in a little ways, so they won't see it. We could just let in it for our shift, let it sleep in the corner, and I'll chuck it out before our shift is up. No one'll know."
Treyborn hesitated, his hand still on the doorknob.
"C'mon, Treyborn," Walker pleaded, "I'm bored. They won't let us out of the compound, and there's nothing to do around here. This'll break things up a little bit. Hell, didn't you have a dog when you were a kid?"
Treyborn glanced out the window; he couldn't hear through the door, but it looked like the little dog was whining pitifully. It was awfully boring around here. And despite his earlier misgivings, the dog hadn't done anything weird last night. If it were alien, it should've done something weird. This place was probably just creeping him out.
"All right," Treyborn said grudgingly, stepping away from the door. Walker happily cracked the door open, and the dog bounded inside.
"Don't let it bark!" Treyborn hissed, hastily closing the door.
"It won't bark," Walker said confidently, petting the pup as its tail wagged so hard it was practically invisible. "You know how to keep a secret, don't'ya boy?"
The dog wagged enthusiastically and nuzzled Walker's hand, not making a sound. Treyborn relaxed a bit, and watched as Walker pulled the napkin out of his pocket and spread it on the floor in the corner, furthest from view of the inner doors. Lapping sounds followed.
"See? It's barely more than a puppy," Walker crooned, petting the dog as it ate.
"Get back up here!" Treyborn insisted. "If they look through the window and don't see both of us, they'll be suspicious!"
To Treyborn's surprise, Walker shrugged and resumed his post, turning to gaze fondly at the munching dog behind him every few seconds or so. Maybe the dog wasn't such a bad idea after all if it made Walker a little easier to live with.
Then Treyborn's eyes fell upon the dog. It was still eating, but it glanced up at him, and the expression in its eyes for just that split second was…..
Treyborn jerked his eyes away in surprise, then sneaked another peek at the dog; it was busy licking the now empty napkin, not looking at either of them. He turned his eyes back to the door, mentally chastising himself for being so silly. He was just being paranoid. Overreacting. Dogs only thought about whether they were hungry, or bored, or needed to pee. Dogs didn't have expressions.
Which was just as well, since the only word he could have used to describe the expression he thought he'd just seen in the dog's eyes was "triumphant".
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Next week--Part 3 comes to an end as Jaddo makes a decision regarding Pierce's "offer".
I'll post Chapter 29 next Sunday.
The V constellation can be seen in our night sky if you put together two stars from Andromeda, two from Triangulus and one from Aries 
At least it resembles a lot the one that we saw on the show, because Aries alone doesn't fit the visual we got from the TV 
But a planetary would have been easier 
