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Matt drove his beat-up truck out to the city limits, following a new road that curved up into the foothills on the northern edge of the city of Alpine. He soon turned into an area of recently constructed homes scattered down from the top of one of the taller hills.
Alpine was growing into a city where those with home-grown old money as well as increasingly numerous newcomers, sought out splashier residences. A good view was expensive even in West Texas, but Matt had to admit this one was lovely. The Davis Mountains spread across the horizon to the north in the morning light, set off by a deep blue sky and row upon row of brilliant cirrus clouds.
Matt flashed on the image of a capsule streaking down out of the sky to land somewhere up there.
He recognized the brick column holding the mailbox from his last visit to the house, several months ago. Dr. William Sledd was a notorious local personality. Retired from a lifetime of professoring somewhere on the east coast, he had moved to Alpine for no reason anyone could guess. He seemed to have plenty of money and a prickly personality to go along with it.
He was famous for not suffering fools, and he evidently put most of his fellow citizens in that category. He once said as much in an article he wrote, setting off a firestorm of controversy in the local coffee shops, restaurants, gathering places, and of course, in the Avalanche. It even made the state and national news, briefly.
Matt remembered that besides being a language expert, he had worked for the government in some capacity. From his one interview with him, he had impressed Matt as a worldly and savvy old codger, not one to be swayed by conventional ideas. And Matt had an extremely unconventional idea to present to him.
Dr. Sledd didn't seem overjoyed to see Matt at his door, but at least he didn't bark at him and order him off his property. If Santa Claus needed a crotchety beardless, brother, one good candidate could be found right here answering his doorbell.
Sledd led him to a den in the back of the house where the mountains, thirty miles away, could be seen speckled with cloud shadows. He pointed Matt to an old swivel chair in the middle of the room and sat himself at a large desk covered with papers and books.
"You were here some time ago, were you not, young man?" he asked.
"Yes, sir, I was," Matt replied. "I interviewed you during that dust-up over Alpine's schools."
"Yes, you did. You wrote a decent article about that, I thought. I wouldn't have said it like you did, but then you didn't want to get lynched, did you?"
"No, sir."
Was that faint praise or high praise?
"What's on your mind this time, Mr. Méndez?"
"Well, sir, it's kind of a strange thing, a very delicate matter, really. Before I can go into it, I'd like to ask you to keep it just to yourself for now."
Dr. Sledd raised his bristly white eyebrows over his glasses and glared at Matt.
"I'll promise no such thing, Mr. Méndez."
"Yes, sir, I realize it's an imposition to ask, and I'm sorry."
He decided to throw out a little bait.
"Do you remember that hullabaloo two weeks ago up near the observatory, with government helicopters searching for something?"
"Of course. I believe you wrote an article about it. Nothing much turned up, did it?"
His eyebrows went up another fraction.
"Actually, sir, something did turn up. They captured an alien, but that wasn't made public. There were no press releases or statements at all after that. But, you see, the prisoner got away from them somehow, and they're still searching."
"Oh?"
"Yes, sir. I shouldn't say any more just now, sir. I remember you worked for the government in some capacity...."
"Aha, I see. Let me guess. You know something about this alien. Maybe you even know where he is. You thought of me because I'm supposed to be some kind of expert with languages. But you're worried that I'll tell the feds you've got him. Is that about it, Mr. Méndez?"
"Yes, sir, that's about it."
"All right. Now, the language can’t be Spanish because every Tomás, Dick, and Harry around here speaks that. So I’ll tell you I know next to nothing about exotic foreign languages—a little Russian and a few others, but no Arabic, no Chechen, no Swahili or Chamorro, nothing like that. Second, my work for the government had to do with my skills in cryptography, and I'll say no more about that. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir. Actually, translation is not the issue. English is all we need."
"Very well. Then I will tell you, and you will just have to believe me, that I have no love for federal law enforcement, nor for state or local law enforcement either, necessary as they may be. I do, however, hold this poor, benighted nation in some regard, and I would not be willing to allow it to suffer by my silence. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir. Actually, this does involve a matter of national security, but you may decide what to do about that. In fact, that is what I want to ask you about. I just don't want the alien turned over to the law because of me, or anyone to find out that the, uh, possible alien is anywhere around here. Sir."
"You intrigue me, Mr. Méndez. If it will suit you, I will promise at least not to mention that you may know something about this alien—reporter's confidential sources and all that—as long as the national interest is not harmed. Pray proceed."
"Thank you, sir. I wonder, Dr. Sledd, if you have noticed those ‘missing’ posters all over town, with the picture of the young blonde woman on them."
As the white eyebrows headed up toward the white hair again, Matt summarized what Darcy had told him the day before, about her base on the moon, her flight to earth, and her sole companion, a robot in charge of the moon base. He also mentioned her unearthly speediness and the apparent genetic tweaking that made it possible.
He was careful to leave out any mention of her present appearance or whereabouts or predicament.
As he spoke, Dr. Sledd stared more and more intently at him, fingers interlaced over his paunch. Finally, Matt hesitated, expecting some response.
"Sir?" he asked the motionless figure.
"Extraordinary, Mr. Méndez! Absolutely extraordinary! If true, of course. I am sure you have considered whether your 'alien' may be perpetrating a monstrous hoax, have you not? What are your reportorial instincts telling you, I wonder?"
"I've thought about it, sir. Yes, of course I have. If she wanted to create a hoax, this is an odd one to perpetrate. I can’t think of any reason for her to do so. There seems to be nothing for her to gain from it. I can't be completely certain she’s from another planet, but I saw her run, and I saw her snatch those coins. No normal person could have done either of those things.
“She seems completely serious to me. And I know the government went to a lot of trouble and expense to locate and capture her. There’s no doubting they were convinced. Incredible as it seems, I think it may actually be true."
"Unbelievable! And what did you say that robot assistant of hers was named, the one on the moon?"
"She said something like Leo, or Heo, or maybe Ha-leo, sir."
"Right! Let me check something."
He got up, went over to a wall of books, searched a minute, and pulled one down. He riffled through the pages.
"Ah, I thought so. Here it is. This is a dictionary of Anglo-Saxon, or Old English. It's the language of Beowulf, roughly 1000 years old. Look at this."
Matt got up to look. There it was: ‘hleo: shelter, protector.’ Whoa! Matt had to sit down again. Sledd, on the other hand, began pacing.
"This could be stupendous, Mr. Méndez! That is, if it's only true. Imagine what she could tell students of history, of language, of culture. Who could have imagined such an eventuality in their wildest dreams? An entire society, an ancient culture, lost from our planet to another solar system! It would be a whole new chapter in the history of civilization! Why, scientists and the medical community alone would give their eye teeth to study her! 'Germline therapy,' you said?"
"Yes sir."
"Absolutely extraordinary. I've run out of superlatives. Mr. Méndez, I must meet this young woman some time. Soon, if possible. But..." and he returned to his own chair, "...you said you needed my advice in some regard. I must now repeat, with considerably more interest, my opening statement to you: what is on your mind, Mr. Méndez?"
Matt described Darcy's quandary: her discovery of the imminent danger to the planet posed by the meteoroids which was the reason her hasty trip from the moon to the McDonald Observatory, the way she had been disbelieved, her capture by the Special Forces, and the unceasing hunt for her since her escape.
"The government probably thinks she’s some exotic threat, sir. But if she's right, we are all in great danger. Yet if she speaks out publicly, she'll be arrested and imprisoned. Neither of us can think of a way out, sir. We hoped someone, perhaps you, might know what to suggest, so her warning would be taken seriously."
"Fame."
"Sir?"
"Fame, Mr. Méndez. Fame, celebrity, national and even international renown! That's the answer! If she's who she says she is, she'll be the biggest thing to happen to this world since Jesus! First, establish her identity! Then, let her speak!"
His face was alight, and, for the first time in two meetings with him, he actually smiled at Matt.
